PRINTED. NOT PUBLISHED. 



OUR IDOL 



A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS, 



Miis. HARRY BECKETT 



NEW YORK : 
Metropolitan Print, Herald Building, 218 Broadway. 

1877. 



ill 



PRINTBD, NOT PUBLISHED. 



OUR IDOL, 



A COMEDY JN FOUR ACTS, 



^ 



14 



BY 



Mes. HA.RRY BECKETT 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by Harry Beckett, at the office of the 
Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 




NEW YORK: 

Meteopolitan Peint, Hebald Buelding, 218 Bkoadw.it. 

187t. 



i 



.^1 ^ 



DKAMATIS PERSON.^ 



/ 

JACK BEAMISH, au Artist 

NOEL BLAKE, a Composer 

BERTIE FFOLLIOTT, Clerk in the 12 to 4 Office 

MAJOR SPOTT WHYTE, of Wrangle's Hussars, in 
the Austrian service 

SEBASTIAN SMYTHE, a Disciple of Wagner 

HORNGOLD, a Sculptor 

TEDDY SPROTT, an Art Student 

MR. SMYLIE, a Lawyer 

WITHERS, Butler at Field Royal 

WILLIAMS, Major White's Groom, . . . . ; 

JENKINS, Lady Blanchmayne's Footman 

MADGE HESKETT, Noel's Cousin 

LADY BL ANCHM AYNE 

BABY BLANCHMAYNE 

MRS. BUNN, Housekeeper at Field Royal 



ACT! 



SCENE: Painter's S'udio ; large Windo'jo at hack; Easel L with unfinished Picture; 
small Table dose by Boor L 2 E; Piano ; Sofa B by Wall; Busts, bkeiches, &c., on 
Table and Walls ; an old curved Chest, on which are a Helmet, a Mandoline, Bapiers, 
&c., &c.; Vases of Flowers on Piano ; Music to lake up Curtain. 

A knock at door. Enter Teddy Spro't, timidly, with large bunch of roses. 

Teddy, looking about. She is Eot lier«. so I can leave them without being found 
out. (Puts flowers on iabh by work basket.} I wonder if she suspects where they, 
come from ? Sometimes I almost hope she does, but then when we meet she holds 
out her hand so calmiy and says "Good morning, Mr. Sprott," so unconsciously 
that I begiii to despair agaia. I shr„ll never have courage to tell her how much I 
love her, so I have painted this little portrait of myself {taking it from breast pocket) 
and it shall speak for me. I will just lay it there under the roses, and (JBws— pu/.s 
portrait on table). Oh, Lord, how my heart does beat ! (Hides picture; as he comes 
down Madge enters wiih vases of flower.--, which she places on piano.) 

Madge. {Holding out htr hand.) Ah. good morning, Mr. Sprott? 

Teddy. (Bioing.) Good mornii^g, Miss Heskett. {Aside.) As usual. 

Madge. You are waiting to see Jack, I suppose? He has gone to ask after 
poor Wars ring ton, who is very ill, but I expect him in every minute. You don't mind 
my g">ing on with mv work, I am rather late this morning ! {Goes on dusting and 
arranging furniture. 

Teddy. O, not at all. {Aside. ) No, she does not caie for me. I wish I had 
the portrait back. {Edging towards it.) 

Madge. You have a holiday to-day, I suppose, Mr. Sprott, as you are out so 
early ? 

Teddy. I — oh, no ! Only I just thought I would look in and 

Madge. But you are losing the best hours of the morning, and it is such a pity. 
I thought you were determined to be a paiuter, like Jack? How can you do that 
unless jou work hard? He is never i.lle 

Teddy. {Fumbling loith his fiat. ) Yes — no. Miss Heskett, and yet he does n't 
seem to make much prog? ess with his great picture over there. 

Madge. [Sadly, and pausing to look at picture which hangs unfinished on wall.) 
No, poor fellow. 

Teddy " Cleopatra Aw iting the Visit of Octavia," I think he calls it! She 
seems to have been waiting a long time. The picture is smothered in dust. 

Madge. That is because I am not tall enough to reach up to it, and Jack only 
laughs at me when I speak of it. You see. it Xakea him all his time to p< int por- 
traits— "p^t boilers," as he calls them — in order to keep the house, find in the 
meanwhile his great picture, of which he used to dream so fondly, remains un- 
finished. 

Teddy. I beg your pardon ; I did not mean 

Madge {Smding.) I am sure of that. (^Goes on dusting.) {Teddy, business of 
edging towards portrait.) Here is Jack, i believe. {Buns and opens door. ) 

(Enter Smythe and Horngold,) 

Smythe. May we come in ? 

Madge. Yes, come in; but pray don't make a noise, for Noel is asleep, 

Smythe. {Comhig dow.u) Asleep at this hour ! Let'o wake him up. Going.) 

Madge. iS ojjping th'^m.) No; please doa't. It always makes hi a so irritable, 
I mean so nervous, when he is roused out of his sleep. Y^u know how sensitive he 
is. 

Smythe. Drily.) We do. {Looking at pic-ure on easel.) By Jove, the picture 
prog 1 esses. How hard the old boy does work ! 

Madge. {Archly.) Yes, his labor is for the present you know, not for the 
tature. 

Smythe. Now, Miss Heskett, you are too cruel. I confess I am an idle fellow; 



but wbat is the use of making statues in this degenerate age, when every one is so 
hideously ugly ! Suppose, for instance, that Teddy Sprott there were to order a 
bust of himself, what could I do with such material? (All laugh.) 

Teddy. (Annoyed. ) Hang it all, Horngold, I 

Smythe . And as for me, when I offer my compositions to a brainless public, 
they turn a deaf ear and say they cannot understand the mission it conveys . 

Madge, But it seems to me that music has no mission, and that so long as it 
pleases you — 

HoiiNGOLD. Ah ! that was all very well in the antiquated days of Mozart and 
Weber, but we have outgrown such cbildirjli notions. Smythe's music does not please 
anybody. 

(Teddy laughs.) 

Smythe. {Looking at Teddy, who stops suddenly.) I should hope not, indeed. 

HoKXGOiiD. It paints — describes — 

Madge What ? 

Smythe Anything and everything ! From the play of the telegnxph wires 
down to the most ordiniiry action of your life, such as reading the newspaper or open- 
ing an urn br ell . 

Madge. Dear me ! 

HoitNGOLD. For instance, suppose you want to say to your servant, *' Mary Ann, 
that coffee is too hot!" Sebaatian, oblige me by translating that phrase into muf-ic, 
old fellow. 

Smytbe. With pleasure. {Sings a fero bars, ending in a scream.) 

Madge. And that means, "the coffee is too hot " 

Smythe. You don't mean to tell me you didn't catch the id' a. "M'iry Ann," 
(s'ngs) "S^he coffee" {sings). Can't you hear how plainly tha*- expresses coffee? A 
Lttie v7ild Oriental phrase with a kind of aroma about it, you know ! " Is too hot!" 
{screaris) a cry as if you had burnt yourself 

Madge, {Laughing.) Wonderful! [Still working, takes up roses.) 
. Teddy. {Aside ) Oh, Lord! 

MiDGE. What lovely rose.s! {Porlrait faUs. Horngold picks it up.) 

HoKNGOLD. Halloa! what have we here ? {All crowding round.) 

Teddy. Oh, dear! Now he will spoil j tall! {Calls Smythe mysteriously aside.) 
I say, can't yoa get him away? That's my portrait, and — 

HoENGOLD. Some new adorer, MissHeskett? 

Madge. No, indeid. I never saw it before. {They look at it together.) 

Smythe. {Bringing Teddy down tragically.) Eash youth, what have you done? 
If Beamish should discover that portrait — 

Teddy. Oh, but he would never suspect. I've taken care of that. I painted it 
myself, you know, and it isn t a bit like me any more than your music is — {Smythe 
looks at him.) 

Horngold. No, I can't make it out. We'll ask Beamish who it is. {Music till 
Jack on. ) 

{Noise outside — Beamish calling to Van.) And here he comes — 

(^Enter Jack Beamish, throwing aside his cap and greeting them all cordially, 
then goes to hack.) 

Jack, {peaking of to dog.) Don't forget your appointment, you rascal ! I 
want you to sit to me iu an hour, so none of your prowliijg about the neighborhood, 
do you hear? {To Madge.) Warrington is better, the babies have had a i^ood break- 
last, and now I can get to my work with an easy heart. Halloo, Sebastian, where 
are you off to ? 

Smythe. Oh. taking holiday. We wanted Noel to go with us, but he is asleep — 

Jack. ( Seriously. ) Then let him alone. He always says his best ideas come to 
him in his dreams. {To Madge, seeing portrait.) What have ycu got there, Madge? 

Smythe. Thai's just what we want you to tell us. Do yoa kuow that head ? 

Jack. {Taking portrait and comparing it with all she /aces in the room.) Are you 
sure it is a head ? 

Teddy. (Aside.) Oh, Lord, if I could only get out of the room ! 

Jack. ( Thoughtfully. ) No, it is not a portrait. It must be meant for a land- 
scape. (Jack goes up and chmges coat for blouse, with Madie's help ) 

HoEN. i. Roaring with laughter.) We may as well be off after that. 

Smythe. Ha ! ha ! If we have but succeeded in making our dear Teddy thor- 
oughly wretched, we feel we have not wholly wasted an idle hour. 

{Exit, pulling off Horngold. ) 

Jack. ( Goofl n dure Uy. ) Never mind, S,)rott; don't you let these idle fellows put 
you out of conceit with your work. You'll be a painter yet, in spite of them. 



5 

Madge. Aud thank you for your beautiful roses, Mr. Sprott. They shall stand 
near Jack's easel all day. There ! {Puis jar of flowers theie as she speaks.) 

Teddy. If you please — thank you— Good morning — I'm sure ! {Bows himself 
aickwardly out) 

Madge. Poor boy I He has a very good heart. 

Jack {Working at Easel.) You ought to know, child! It has been in your 
possession this many a day ! 

{Enter Noel in Dressing Gown, yawning and sulky.) 

Noel. "What the devil is all this row about? 

Madge. {Going to Noel) Up already, Cousin ! 

Noel. Why shouldn't I be up as well as Beamish ? 

Madge Oh, but you know Jack and I are generally at work for hours before 
you appear on the domestic horizon ! 

Jack. Noel is not obliged to profit by the daylight for his work, like I am — 

Madge. Nor to get breakfast ready like me. How pale you are ! I am afraid 
you have had a bad night? 

Noel. Wretched ! I tossed and turned and could get no rest until daybreak ! 
(iiev on Sofa and takes up Newspaper . ) 

Jack ' {CheeriL/.) I see what it is. He's in one of his dejected moods again. 
Give kim a scolding, Madge ! 

Madge. Indeed, I will ! But I'll get him something to eat first, so as not to 
take him at an unfair advantage. Yon have ^\our Newspaper, Noel ? I shall not be 
\oji>x l {Exit.) 

Jack BL ss that child's bright face ! It is not for nothing she lives so near the 
Sun, in our dingy old attic up here ! 

Noel. {Lying on Sofa and turning over Newspaper.) I say, Jack? Did you ever 
hear ot a Sir Kichard Gaunt? 

Jack. Never ! Why ? 

Noel. It appears there was such a person here in London, and no later than 
yesterday. 

Jack. Has he come to an end already ? 

Noel. Worse luck. Music, {reads.) ** The Musical World has just sustained 
serious 1©3S in the person of Sir Richard Gaunt, the well known Catholic Baronet, one 
of the most ardent and eccentric Amateurs in England, who died yesterday in this 
city." 

Jack. (Painting hasily.) A musical Amateur, Eh ! One chance the less for 
you, old fellow, more's the pity ! 

Noel. Yes, but what a windfall for the Heirs ! {Reads. ) ** The fortune ol the 
late Baronet is estimated at £30,000 a year. He died unmarried, and leaves none 
but distant relatives to mourn his loss." By Jove ! What luck some people have in 
this world ! 

( Getting up and crossing Stage. ) 

Jack. So they have. You and I for instance ! 

Noel. (Slops and looks at Jack.) You and I ! you don't consider yourself 
lucky ! 

Jack. Lucky ! I consider myself simply the most fortunate fellow in the world. 
I have the honor "to be an honest man. I never bother my head about politics, or the 
money market. I don't go into society, and to crown it all, I am the the intimate 
fr;end of a great |musician. called Noel Blake. What the deuce could I wish for 
besides ! 

Noel. {Gloomily.) Money! {Goes hack to Sofa.) 

Jack, Money ! we've got money ! There's 5 shillings still in the Bureau, to 
say nothing of 18 pence or so, in my waistcoat pocket, money indeed, you young 
SardanipaUis ! 

Noel. Ah, Beamish, it's all very well for you to make light of our poverty ; 
but when I think: that I am living on your scanty earnings ; that I am actually re- 
duced to accepting your bounty ! 

Jack. There you go agaiu ! I'm a great creature, of course ! A perfect paragon 
of friendship ! That's understood, old boy, so say no more about it. 

Noel, {leaning on Jack's Chair.) 1 tell you, I can't help talking of it, when 
I see you wasting your life, day bj^ day, in the useless sacrifice yon have undertaken. 
Do you think I am deceived by your careless words and looks, and that I haven't 
heard you sigh many and mauy time, when your eyes turn wearily from those infer- 
nal " Pot-boilers " and fall an the sketch of your great picture over there, that you 
will never find time to finish. * 



Jack {turning around.) What a loss to posterity ! And I'll thank you not 
to talk 80 disrespectfully of my portails; I'm rather proud of tliem, mysrlf ! 

Noel Look here, Jack 1 I am getting dihconraged. Here you are sacrificing 
your own works and your own life to mine, and what ii the great artist of us two, 
should turn out to be yourself after all '■ 

Jack. (Coming do'cn to Noel.) The old story, my boy ; my works, my sacrifice; 
There's no such great merit in all that a3 you seem to think. We had two empty 
purses between us, and we joined them ib^to one — that's all. You couldn't make a 
decent living by your music pupils — and yet they absorbed the time that should 
have been devoted to some great composition, I was compelled to leave my picture 
every now and then for one of these Jittle commercial transactions (touch>ng easel) 
and neither of us seemed to advance a peg. 
Noel . I know all that ; but — 

Jack. I looked the matter straight in the face, and I said to myself, "Noel and 
I have a wall to climb. The ladder is long and narrow and the wind is high ; If we 
both mount together the ladder will break. Let Noel go up first while I hold It 
steady against the wall, and when he has reached the top, he can lend me a helping 
hand in return." 

Noel. At least we could have drawn lot- for the first mount ; 
Jack. Nonsense old fellow ; you are mmbl>-r than me, and more likely fo rise. 
Besides I ha\e one virtue, 1 believe, which you do not possess, ihe like virtue ot pa- 
tience ; What does a year's delay matter to me? my ^oal is close at haud, and it wcmt 
take me long to reach it when once I sta^t, but your road is infinite — ^endies-;— and 
you had no time to lose in getting on the way. 

Noel. And I am on the way at last, thanks to you ; I have written a sympho- 
ny which you pronounce good ; 
Jack . Great ! 

Noel. Well, great. And I have offered it to the Philliarmonic Society for pror 
duction— But though it has been in their hands now for over three months, they have 
net condescended to give me a hearing. 

Jack. Patience ! patience ! {goes back to easel) The Symphony i^ written any- 
how and well written ! It has my approval, as you are aware, and I think no small 
beer of my musical taste. Madge is charmed with it, and you remember how delight- 
ed that old man was, the noble stranger as I call him, when he heard her play it that 
evening. 

Noel. Some old lunatic ! By jove ! the way he burst into the room was decided- 
ly suggestive of a straight waistcoat 1 

Jack Yes.but the exit he made more than redeemed his character! "There 
are £10 on account, Mr. Beamish," said he, when he ordered this picture, and the 
speech struck me as being remarkably eloquent ! 

Noel. Much good that did us ! The £10, ai-e neatly gone already. 
Jack. Well, that was two months ago, you must remember, aud then we have 
had Warriugton's illness — By the way his wife had no money left when I wa-< there 
this mornitg, we must try and get her a trifle — There's that sketch would fetch a 
few shillings I daresay. 

Noel. Another starving genius — Its no use your talking, Beamish, this is a mis- 
erable world ! 

Jack. Oh I don't know — after all it's not so easy to find places for scholars, 
who all want to be at the head ot the class. 

Noel {walking ahoutK To thijak that a set of numskulls and idiots should be 
rolling in riches and luxury all around us, and here we are, three men of talent, 
War ington, you. and myself, one of us is dying of hnnger, another can'1 find leisure 
to develop the gifi God gave him, and the third is denied so much as a hearing 
from the public. It's infamous 

Jack, {slapping him. klndy on shoulder.) I'm half afraid, Noel, that you have a 
grain ot envy in your disposition, Beware of that, lad ! It is an evil weed, and it 
will spring up apace and choke every good growth in your heart, unless y>:u pluck 
it out out ! 

Noel (iwpatienily). To bear you talk one would thiuk I ought to submit 
tamely to being kept down. 

Jack. Who the deuce is keeping you down? you are obliged to wait awhile — 
that's all, you are a spoiled child, Master Noel, and you fret an i fume under the su- 
ffering that is ihe cost of all true glory. 

Noel. You see everything through rose colored spectacles. 
Jack. Well, they are just as cheap as green ones, and a great deal more cheer- 
fal! 

Noel. I suppose if fortune were ever to knock at your door, you would shut it 
in her face ? 



Jack. I should if I were wise. I make a decent poor man, who knows what I 
might t irn out rich ! 

Noel. You— the cream of men ! 

Jack Yes, but cream is apt to turn ! Just think what it must be to be worth 
millions, never to know what it was to long for anything, but to be able to gr^itify 
every caprice, no matter how unwholesome, that entered your head, The bare idea 
frigatens me ! 

Noel. I only wish — I had the chance ! 

Jack. Well, suppose you had— suppose you were to discover a gold mine 
to-morrow. How many times could you dine the day after? How many pairs of 
boots cou;d you w^'ar at a time, and how many hats ? 

Noel. I should be content to dine once, I dare say, and to wear one pair of 
boots, but I could give you an order for £5,000 worth of pictures, old fellow. 

Jack. Ah ! 

Noel. I could send £100 pounds to that unfortunate Warrington and his hun- 
gry babies. 

Jack. Good ! 

Noel. I would have my symphony produced in a theatre of my own. 

Jack. Bravo ! 

Noel. And, dear old fellow, I am going to lay bare my heart, and show you the 
real wound which causes th s fever of impatience in me. I could marry the woman 
I love ! 

Jack. ( Surprised. ) You are in love ? 

Noel. Hash ! 

{Enter Madge with small fray, whihske lays on stand at Noel's elbow.) 

Madge. There is your coffee, cousin. 

Jack. Noel, just haikd me my vermilion, will you ? 

Noel. {Siiiing down.) Give it to him, Madge; there it is. {Points. He is down 
on sofa. ) 

Madge, ( Takes color to Jack — stands behind his chair, watching him paint. ) iJ ave 
you nearly finished? 

Jack. All but the head of the distinguished Incognito I can't catch the expres- 
sion, somehow, the mini-riture he sent me is so poor ! 

Madge. And then Van is only sketched in as yet. 

Jack. I can't get the rascal to sit He knows I am after him, ani he won't 
show his nose inside the door. This modesty is very ill-timed, upon my soul. 

Madge. This is his breakf^bt-hour, you know. I daresay he has come in. 
Shall I go and see if I can coax him to give you a sitting ? 

Jack. I'm afraid he'll see through all your blandishments, child. However, you 
certainly have more influence over him than anybody else, and if you can induce him 
to listen to reason — 

Madge. {Seriously.) I'll try. Perhaps I had better tell him the truth at once 
and appeal to his own good sense. {Eims off. ) 

Jack. ( To Noel ) By the way, you were going to tell me about your love affair. 

Noel. That is soon done. I am in love with — Madge. 

Jack. {Turning round, amaze l.) With Madge — your cousin— our child? 

Noel. She was a child when my father died, and I became her guardian ; but 
four years have changed the ii .tie girl into a woman. 

Jack. But what put it into your head to fall in love with her ? She is like a sis- 
ter to you almost ; and — 

Noel. Does any one know why they fall in love ? 

Jack. And do you think she suspects? Doe s she know that you love her ? 

Noel. {Gloomily.) I don't know. I have never dared to ask her. What would 
be the good ? I am too poor to marry. 

Jack. True ; you are too poor to marry. 

Noel. If I was only sure of my talent, then — 

Jack. {Abruptly. ) Yes, yes. But as your symphony has not been produced, of 
course you cannot be sure. {Returns to his painting.) 

Noel. You see I have better cause than you supposed for my impatience and 
discontent. 

Jack. Yes, I see. {A pause.) Are you going out this morning to get a breath 
of air ? 

Noel. No, I feel blue. 

Jack. By-the-bye. there is the money for Warrington's wife i was forgetting. I 
wish you'd take that sketch round to old Scrawly's and see what he'll stand for it. 

Noel, Oh, there's no hurry. You can leave it thfe next time you pass by. 



8 

Jack. But Warrington is expecting the tin, and if you— 

Noel, I feel good lor nothing to- Jay. 

Jack. Not only to-day, by Jove ! You would like me to leave my work, I sup- 
pose, while you lie here on the broad of your back, doing nothiag. 

Noel. Hang it, you needn't take that tone . 

Jack. Well, its true. You expect us to coddle you all day long as if you were 
a girl. God bless my soul, the man doesn't live twenty miles away. 

Noil. (Eising.) All right. I'm going; where's the sketch ? 

Jack. On the mantlepiece, there under my mother's miniature. 

Noel. Old Scrawl ey would be more likely to stand something on that; the 
frame would go a long way with him 

Jack. I daresay, but I have never parted with it yet, and we have been in some 
sore scrapes too . 

Noel. You need not remind me o the fact, I am only too well aware that I 
have been the chief cause of them (Business and exit) 

Jack. Idle, useless, selfish fdlow, he thinks he is to take all and give nothing. 
This is what co es of devoting one's self, body and soul, to one of these leeble 

vacillating n a ures. This the gratita--e (checking himself .) Whatsilsme? Why 

am I so hard upon the lad? Can it be that I ? Pooh, nonsense ! That would 

be a good joke. Jack Beamish in love ! Ah, no Love is not meant for fellows 
like me. What is there in me to take any girl's fancy? No; I was born to play 
uncle in some other man's nursery ; only let me see Noel happy and famous, and I 
will be content to find my happiness and my glory in applauding his works and 
dancing his children on my knees. And — and — will you sto j whiuing, you beast ? 
(Uising and huit ming his coat with an attempt at briskness.) Egad, it was about time 
this confidence of Noels came to open my eyes. I don't know where I had not 
been wandering in my selfish, stupid dreaus, of late. However, that is all 
over now. {Singing, as he sits against the easel; breaks off.) Perhaps, though, she 
does not love him. Oh, but she does — she must? How could she heip it? Let me 
make sure of it at once, and then — they shall be married, come what may. I must 
put a barrier beLween little Madge and my own folly. Here she is . 

{Enter Madge.) 

Madge. (Despairingly.) It's no use, Ja:k ; Van says he will not come. 

Jack. (Rising from easel and coming do icn.) So much the better child, I want 
to speak to you alone. 

Madge. What is it you have to say ? 

Jack. I want to know whether — whethf r you love your cousin Noel ? 

Madge. (Sitting down to work basket ) What a question ! I should be the most 
ungrateful girl in the world if I did not love him. When my poc r uncle died he left 
me to Noel's care, and you know how good my cousin bas'beeu io me ever since. 

Jack. He couldn't very well have left you in the street, could|he? 

Madge. And what about your share in the good work, dear? I was no relation 
of yours, and yet you have been as kind as Noel. 

Jack. Oh, very kind ! I wonder what we should have done, we two graceless 
bachelors, without our thrifty little, sunny little housekeeper io look after us. Ah, 
you don't know me, my child. I wanted some one to sew on my buttons and pour 
out my coffee ; that was all. I am a deep fellow, I tell you . 

Madge. {Fondly.) You dear old Jack ! B.:!t what touches me more than all, 
now that I am old enough to understand such things, is the change you both made 
in your careless Bohemian life. 

Jack. That fact alone, my child, more than pays whatever debt jou think you 
owe your two big brothers. 

Madge. And then you ask me if I love you both? Oh, you stupid old Jack, 
was that your grand secret ? 

Jack. I confess the question was stupid, child, but that was not all I had to 
say. 

Madge. I thought not. 

Jack, Madge, haven't you noticed lately how unhappy and depressed Noel has 
appeared ? 

Madge. (Quickly looking up.) Yes, indeed I have, but I did not like to speak 
of it. Ah, Jack, is there anything amiss? Do you think he can have any secret 
trouble? 

Jack. He is in love ! 

Madge. {Letting her work fall on her lap). Noel, in love ! Oh, impossible; with 
whom. Jack? 

Jack {pacing up and down with his hands in pockets). With a woman he cannot 
marry, because he is too poor. 

Madge. Did he tell you so himself? 



Jack (nodding). Not half an hour ago. 

Madge. He did. Then it is really true ! 

Jack. There's nothing so very surprising in it after all. 

Madge. No ; of course not. I suppose it is quite natural. Bat are you quiet 
sure he loves this woman ? 

Jack (^grimly smiling). Only too sure. 

Madge. {Brighining.) Perhaps she do;*R not l)ve him, though ? 

Jack. (Pausing by her chair. ) Poor child ! She is over head and ears in love 
with him, though she does not know it herself ! 

Madge, (Puzzled). Does not know she is in love? Oh, Jack, that seems impos- 
sible, dear ! 

Jack. She is such an innocent little darling that she takes her love for affection. 
or friendf^hip. But she is jealous of him. !She turns pale at the thought of his 
marrying another woman. Her voice breaks ; her hand trembles. (Aside. ) I <eel 
an itching desire to smash every chair in the room ! ( 2\irns up. ) 

{Enter Major Spoft Whyle.) 

Major. ( Outside. ) Down, down, I say, you ugly brute ? 

Jack. Halloa ! Some one is abusing Van out there! 

Majob. (Entevirtg.) Excuse my entering so unceremoniously, but'there is no 
knocker, and I found the key outside, which looks as if your visitors were in the 
habit of entering unannounced ! 

Jack. So they are, when they don't know any better. 

Major. {Advancing.) But, egad! your doorkeeper was inclined to treat me 
rather roughly. 

Jack. (Looking him over coolly. ) Then he didn't like your looks ! 

(Jack goes on with his painting.) 

Major. (Drawing himself up with a forced smile,) His own appearance hardly 
gives hiui the right to be fastidious. 

Jack. (Aside. ) I don't think he was in this instance ! 

Major (Bowing to Madge ) (To Jack.) Mr. Biake, I believe ? 

Jack. (Painting ) No ; my name is Beamish. 

Madge. (In'erposing gently.) Mr. B!ake does live here, but he is not at home 
just now. If you wish to leave any message, Mr. Beamish is his particular friend, 
and 

Major. Thank yoi. K you will allow me I would rather wait. 

Jack. You have my permission. 

Madge. (Aside to Jack.) You mr.st not be so rude, you great bear ! 

Jack. (Aside ) I don't like the fellow's face, neither did Van, and Van and I 
have a good eye for faces. 

Major. (Aside.) These artists are certainly not the best bred people in the 
world The girl is pretty. Wonder what she is doing here ? 

(Noise outside.) 

Madge. You will not have much longer to wait, I hear Mr. Blake*s step on the 
stairH ! 

(Enter Noel. Major rises and bows.) 

Major. Your servant. 

Noel. (Returning the bow. ) To whom have I the pleasure of speaking ? 

Major. Major Spott Whyte ; Wrangle s Regiment, Austrian servrice. (Aside ) 
This fello»v behaves more like a Christian. (AlowJ.) I have called on a little matter 
of business. 

Noel. (Motioning him to a chair.) I am sorry you should have had to wait. 

Major. (Siting down. ) Not at all. Your friend has done the honors in your 
absence. 

Jack. (To Madge at easel.) Amiable fiction ! 

Noel. Is the matter in question of a private nature ? 

Major. No ; no. It is connected with your business. 

Noel. My business. 

Major. I mean your profession. I dare say, now», you have a Rpquiem. or a 
De Prof undis in your Portfolio ! something short of a lugubrious description. 



10 

KoEL. (Leaning against piayio.) An unrecognized composer is sure to have his 
hands full of attempts in every style. But may I ask what has procured me the 
honor of this request ? I have little or no reputation, I am aware, as yet, and — 

Majoe. That is easily explained; I am a relative of the late Sir Kichard Graunt. 

Noel. The Musical Amateur who Utely died — 

Major. You are aware, perhaps, that my cousin, in consequence of .a domestic 
affliction which occured many years ago, had become embittered, fanatical, and 
lived an almost Monastic life at his line old seat in Sussex. Music was his only 
passion, and he squandered — I mean he devoted much time and money to the encour- 
agement of the Art ! 

Noel. But may I ask ?— 

Major. Certainly. He often told me, during his last moments, Ihatitwashis 
ardent desire to have one of your compositions performed at his obsequies, and I 
make a point of gratifying this curious caprice of a dying man. 

Noel. Curious, indeed. I never heard of Sir Eichard Gaunt, until to-day. 

Major. It appears he had heard of you, howevtr, the poor dear soul was n ver 
weary of praising your Music. 

Noel. Then as a token of gratitude to my solitary admirer, allow me to pre- 
sent you with what you came here to buy. 

Major. By no means— on no account ! Business is business, and I could not 
think of — 

(Noel goes to Piano in search of Music. Jack comes forward.) 

Major. (Aside.) I don't suppose the fellow in eau.s it ! 

Jack. As you say — business is business — the price of the Requiem is £20. 

Major. I beg your pardon — 

Jack. £20 — money down. 

Major. Oh, by all means. (Aside.) I thought it was too good to be tiue ! 

Noel, (preseniing r-oll qf 2fusic.) I think this will answer your requirements. 

Majok. Dear me? It appears to be an endless affair. There is enough Music 
here to bury 20 people, I should say. 

Noel. Don't be alarmed ! It is merely the Orchestration — th© Band parts, 
which make it appear as bulky. 

Major. 1 br athe again, (calling) "William ! 

(Elder Servant.) 

Take this parcel, (to Noel.) Mr. Blake, I am exceedingly obliged to you. Here 
are the £20 you demand. 

(Offtrs purse. Jack makes a movement to take purse. Xoel stops his arm. 2 he pxirst 
fails to ground. ) (This Bus. and what follows very marked.) 

Noel, (pushing it with his foot to Servant.) William, I am afraid my Music is 
somewhat heavy; there is a trifle for your pains. 

{William picks it up and offers it to Major, who returns it to his pocket.) 

Major. (To Noel.) Please yourself, my young Prince ! Now, Williams ! 

(Ext Major followed by Servant.) 

Noel. (AngrVy.) Was there ever anything to equal the insolence of these rich 
people ? 

Jack. Never ! imless it be the piide of these poor people ! That £20 would have 
come in very bandy just now for us, and for poor Warrington. 

Noel. Perbaps, it would; but I have had a £100 worth of pleasure, in flinging 
it in tho teeth of that impertinent. Idiot ! ^ 

Jack. Oh, in that case you have saved a clear £80, and I have nothing more to 
say. Indeed, we have something more interesting to talk about. You, Noel and 
Madge ! 

Madqe. Me, Jack? 

Jack. Yes. (Music.) 

(Footman bolting in as if in fear <f a dog, with nervous glances at his heels.) 
^^coTMAN. Lady Blanchmayne — Miss Blanchmayne. 



n 

Jack. Wba^ the deuce I— we fihall have the whole Court guide down upon us, 
and Van is at his old tricks again I see 

{Noel goes to the door and meets Lady B., who hastily enters nlh her Daughter.) 

Lacy B. Really, a very formidable animal ! 

Baby. Dreadful ! He made Jenkius jump, until the powder flew out of his 
hair, didn't he Mamma? 

Madge. (Adaw^ing.) He does not mean to be rude. Pray, come in ! 

Lady B. Mr. Noel Blake ? 

Noel, (5oioinf7.) Madam! 

Lady B. I liave a little f.ivor to request of you. Don't let me disturb anyone, 
please ! 

(Jack Jias returned to his painting, taking no notice of Lite ladies after a careless low.) 

Madge. (Offering chairs.) Won't you sit down? 

Lady B. TJbank you. I have only a lew words to say to your husband. 

Madge. (<4s/de.) My husband! 

Lady H. And as I Know his time is valuable, I will explain the object of my 
visit at once. I daresay, Mr. Blake, you have something of a melancholy nature 
among a our musical odds and end^? A requiem, or 

Jack. {Stiil busy painting.) Not such a thiag Jeft. We have this very moment 
disposed of the last one we laad in stock. But if you would like a nice luneral 
m irch now. we can let you have orte in capital condition, and on reasonable terms. 

Lady B. This is some joke, I suppose? 

Noel. No, it is the truth ; a ce;taiu Major Spott Whyte has forestalled you, I 
am sorry to say. 

Lady B. Major Whyte, I understand. {Aside ) He thought it would make a 
pretty paragraph for the Morning Post no doubt, but I will not be outdone. 

Jack. He has made a clean sweep of our requiems. 

Lady B. I regret this exceedin.-iy, as it deprives uie of the mournful gratifica- 
tion I should have experience ' in sitisfying the last desire expressed by a beloved 
relative. But J will not be beaten ; and since the Major has carried off the requiem 
I suppose I must content myself with the march your friend mentions. 

Noel. Very well. 

Lady B. 1 cannot think of bargaining with an artist of your merit, of course, 
so pray be kind enough to name your own terms. 

Noel. I will not ask you to pay for what I offered to Major Whyte for nothing. 

Lady B. For nothing ? 

Noel. Oh, the gentleman did not do me the favor of accepting it, I must ad- 
mit. He insisted on flinging me a gratuity. 

Lady B. {Rising. ) i shall be very happy to accept your music on condition 
tbat you will allow me to send a little souvenir to this lady. 

Jack. ("Aside.) Now, that is something like ! This woman has been decently 
brought up. 

Baby, (who has been examining room and now approaches easel;. Oh, mamma, 
come and see our cousin's portrait : isn't it, mamma? 

Lady B. (Going to easel andputiing up eyeglass.) Sir Eichard himself, and what 
an admirable likeness ! 

Noel. Is it possible ? 

Jack. Oho ! He was the noble stranger, was he ? I begin to understand now. 

Lady B. ( To Jack. ) You don t mean to say j-ou were painting his portrait without 
knowing his name ? 

Jack. ("Fainting steadily. ) Curious — but true. 

Lady B. And how comes he to figure in the scene you are producing there. A 
picture of this room, is it not? I recognize the likeness of your friend, too, and 
yourself, and of that very unpleasant dog. though he is merely sketched in us yet. 

Jack. Yes, but Van is a very important member of the fa nily in his own esti- 
mation as well as ours, 

Baby. Van ! What a funny name, isn't it mamma ? 

Jack. He allows us to take "^iiberties with his title, and that's about all. His 
proper name is Vandy Be Brown, and I beg t . introduce him as the worst tempered, 
most conceited, and warme.st hearted dog in Lon Ion or the world. 

Lady B. There is evidently some story connected with this picture? 

Madge. Indeed yes, a story wo are ail very proud of. 

Baby. Oh. do tell it to us. i love stories, don 1 1, ^maruma? 

Lady B. My dear, pray do not be so indiscrett 



12 

Madge. But I shall be verj^ glad to tell your daughter how we c\me to knov 
Sir Richard, whom we have always spoken of as the "stranger" until now. 

{Lady B. sits near easel Noel at piano sorting music.) 

Baby. Oh. please go on then. What a nice girl you are; isn't she, mamma? 

Lady B. My dear ! (To Madge.) We are all attention. 

Madgb. (Music.) We were all sitting in this very room one evening ; Noel 
liad jnst finished his symphony, and I wag trying it over on the piano. Just as the 
last bars died away we saw the door open softly and a tall dark figure stole in, in 
the dusk. 

Jack. Old, dry, vn-inkled, nose like an eagle's beak, ivory-headed cane, carved 
ring on li:tle finger. 

Baby. That's him exactly ! How clever you are — isn't he, mamma? 

Lady B. My dear, ( To Madge. ) Pray go on. 

Madge. ''I was passing by," he said, "and the piano ai-rested my attention. 
Who is the composer of the music you have been playing?^ It is worthy of Beetho- 
ven ?" 

Jack. ' ' The composer is my friend, Noel Blake,' said I, as proud as you please. 
And then the old gentleman ask-d Madge to play the symphony over again. When 
she had finished, he walked up to Noel and laid his kind, trembling old bands on his 
head. "Mr. Blake," said he, solemnly, "you are a master." And he knew what he 
was talking about. 

Madge. After that he sat down amongst us f^nd questioned us about ourselves, 
and our life, and our hopes, in such a fatherly, encouc.igiug way, that we told him 
everything. "I have spent the hippiest hour < of my life in this little room." he 
said, smiUng in his quaint, benevolent \\ ay. " Mr. Beamis j, oblige me by painting a 
picture that will remind me of this scene in after day8." {Mas'C stop--.) 

Jack. With that he pulled out a £10 noie, which he gave me on account, and 
vanished before we thought of asking his name. 

Madge. That is all. We have never seen him since. 

Baby. Oh, it's too short a story. And they told it so well, too— didn't they, 
mamma ? 

Lady B My dear — (to Jac/c)— Sir Richard was taken ill towards the close of 
Spring, I regret to say, and in spite of all our care he never rallied. 

Jack. Poor, dear, generous soul ! 

Lady B. {Rising.) Beally, your little history has interested me so greatly that 
I am forgetting how much I have to do. {To Madge.) Allow me to thank you for 
the happiness you were the means of bestowing on my poor, dear cousin. You will 
not, I am sure, refuse to accept a little remembr.nce from me, as a slight acknowledg- 
ment of Mr. Blake's kindness? ^ 

Madge. 1 accept it gladly, in my cousin's name and my own. 

Lady B. Your cousin, Oh, (5^arp/?/,) Baby, come away, my dear ! Francis, (^o 
.servant, ) take this parcel ! 

BaBY. Shall we come here again some day, mamma ? They are such amusing 
people, and it is such a fuury little room isn't it, mamma? 

Lady B. My dear ! ( To Noel. ) Pray don't disturb yourself Come, Baby. 

{Exd, with her daughter.) 

Noel. ( With enthusiasm.) There goes a charm ng woman ! That is what I call 
a fine lady, in the true sense of the word ! 

Madge. [Dubiously.) She was very gracious, certainly. 

Jack. Did you notice, Noel, how stiff s our fine lady grew, all of a sudden, when 
she found out that Madge was only your cousin ? 

Noel. No. 

(Enter Footman, with small prtckd. ) 

Footman. {Giving it io Noel.) With Lady Blanchmayne's compliments. {Exit.) 

Noel. (Handing'it io Madge.) Her present to Madge already. 

Madge. {Eagerly, and feeling the packet with childish curiositi^. ) I wonder what it 
is? 

Jack. Lady Blanchmayne's present looks to me uncommonly like money. 

Noel. Absurd ! 

Madge. Let us see. ( Undoing packd.) Jack is right — she has sent me money. 
{Puzzled and grieved.) 

Jack. You see ! 

Noel. Why this is a greater piece of impertinence than the Baron's. {Making 
for money — Jack intercepts and pockets it.) 

Jack. No more expensive treats to day; the exchequer won't stand it. Lady 



• 13 

Blaochmayne is not to blame; she offered a rem mbrauce to your wife, not to your 
cousin. 

Noel. What do you mean? {A p'txise.) Can she have thought — Oh, but I 
will run af er her and explain. 

Jack. She will not care for your exp'^anatioTis. We must remember thnt the 
world is not in the secret of our happy little household, and can only judge from ap- 
pearances. 

Madge. What do you mean, Jack? 

Jack. Nothing that you would under tand, my dear little girl. Leave it to Noel 
and me. ( To Noel. ) Madge s no longer a child ; you said so yourself just isow. 
What do you suppose people must think of her living here with two harum-scarum 
fellows like us ? 

Noel. If they dare 

Jack. That is all very fine, my boy ; but you sfe at our fir-<t contact with the 
outside world we are made to feel what a false position we have thoughtlessly 
brought the child into. 

Noel. That is true 

Madge, {terrified ) Bat you will not send me away, Jack ! I shall break my 
heart if I am separated from you both — and Van ! 

Jack. Don't be afraid, de&r ! I am merely anxious to prevent all such msuu- 
derstandings ia the futnre. And (ynih a sigh) the n.eans ard very simpl . Noel, you 
lucky dog, our little Mad^e loves you ! 

Madge. (Siarller}.) Oh, Jack, who told you s > ? 

Jack Don't blush, you foolish little woman ! No one told me. I eaw it for 
myself plainly enougLi a little while ago. 

Madge. But you said Noel was in love with— I don't understand. 

Jack. It i* you he loves, Madge, and no oi-e else 

Madge. (Shyly.) Is that true, Noel? 

Noel. {Smiling.) Hasn't Beamish told you so? 

Madge. Oh, t am so happy — you dreadful Jack I How you frightened me, aud 
how dearly I do love you ! (^Throios her arms round his neck ) 

Jack. {I^ ailing her gently away.) God bless ^ou, my child I (aside) And so I 
subside into the character of an uncle for the rest of my life. 

Noel. And have you nothing to say to me, Madge ? 

Madge. To you? {Gives hand, he draws her to him, and Ici-ses her ) 

Jack. {In a cheery manner.) And now, Mis-< Heskett, let me ad ise you to look 
to your tuckers and furbelows. Yon shall be married in a month 

Noel. ( Bit erly.) We are too poor to marry ! 

Jack. Oh, you are thinking of the children, I s' ppose. They will bring you 
more gold in their yellow curls than ever they will take from you for shoes and stock- 
ings ; and so long as they have plenty of bread and milk they won't be particular 
about a silver spoon ! 

Madge, {Holding out disengaged hand to Jack.) Dear Jack ! It is to you we owe 
our happiness. 

Jack. Be happy, child, that is your old brother's only wish ! {Aside. ) Phew ! 
what a load that is off my hands ! 

(Smythe putting head in at door.) 

Smythe. I trust you have not been lonely v\ ith^ut us ? 

(Enter Horngold.J 

Madge. Back already ! Come in ; come in ! 

HoKKGOLD. We met the postman on the stairs with a letter for Jack, aud I 
offered to bring it to these airy heights whereun he dwells ! i^Gives it. ) 

Noel. By Jove ! a formidable looking epistle, truly ! 

Jack, Sealed with black ! Another order for a Bequiem, old boy ! Let us see ! 
{Reads. ) 

" SlE, 

"In accordance with the wish of my late client. Sir Kichard Gaunt, I sum- 
mon you. your friend Mr. Blake, and his cousin, Mies Heskett, to be present at the 
re. ding of the said Sir Richard's wid, which will take place at his late residence. 
Field Koyal, near Blomborough, Sussex, on Thursday next, at noon, iDreciseiy. 
"I have the honor to be 

"Your obedient servant, ~ 

» " Samuel Smylie." / 

What does it all me,in? 



14 

Smythe. It is as plain as the nose on Teddy's face ! The estimable defunct has 
evidently left you each a legacy ! 

Noel. No such luck ! 

HoKNGOLD. Who knowH!. I'd give ten years of Teddy Sprott's life to be in your 
shoes at any rate ! But who ths duoe is or was Sr Richard Gaunt. 

Jack. O r noble stranger, to be sure? 

NoHL. The man who ordered the picture of Ja k, some moaths ago, I suppose 
this law business has something to do with that. 

Madge. Ob, Jack, do you thick I need go? 

Jack. Go, ot cours3 you'll go, child ! It wiil be a little trip for you. By Jove ! 
her ijadyship's money comes in the very nick of time. I'll take my sketch book 
and fill up a few bits by the way. 

Noel,. We sha'l meet our visitors of to-day, there, I suppose, (ioi//i an uneasy 
aurjJi) How they will stare ! 

Jack. Aod hear your Music, Noel ! That will be a treat at any rate. 

HoENGOLD. What lucky becjgars you are ! 

Noel, (w/w Jias been reading le;ter. ) At noon precisely, on Thursday, the 18th. 
Why, that's to-morrow. By Jove ! we have no time to Ics.^; How are we to get to 
that place? 1 had better go and make enquiries at once ! 

Jack, [slinging color box over shoulder. ) I'm ready; Ive only to whistle to Van. 

Noel, {w';'o is secretly excited. ) Don't you think it would be as well to take an 
extra coat? 

Jack. (Aside.) Egad, it would p'/zzle me ! {Aloud in an airy way) No, no. 
This is quite good enou^jh to travel in. Isn't it, M idge ? 

Smythe. Wei), a pleasant journey to you. Miss Heskett. Good bye, Jack, old 
fellow. And best wishes go witfo you all ! 

Horn. We'Jl drop in the day after to-morrow and hear the news. [Music till 
end of AH.) 

Madge, {passing at door of h(r own chamber.) Goodbye, dear little room, till I 
see you figain. Ah, Jack I we are going into a new world, but what if we are leav- 
ing our old happine-s behind ! 

Jack. If we are child, we shall know where it is, at least, and we will come back 
here again to find it. 

NdEL, "(reading letter,) On Thursday, et noon precise'y ! 

Artists '1 hree cheers for the travelers ! 

{Cheers, waving of Caps, <£'c., as Madge and Jack .stand in the doorway. Noel at Tabh 
absorbed in the Lawyer's letter. Bohemians Exeunt as Curtain falls.) 

curtain. 



--^mm'-- 



ACT II. 



SCENE : Drawing. room at Field Boyal; Large Bay Window C looking on Lawn; Enkr 
Smylie R ; Mrs. Bnnn discovered arranging Furniture, etc. ; Music. 

Smtlie. Gocd moming, good morninp:, Mrs Bunn. Everjthirg in apple-pie 
order, I see. That's well, that's \Yell. We sha'l have the relations down upon us be- 
fore we know where we are. 

Mks. B. ( Who is in mourning.) Eh, dear, dear, sir, it's little I thought to see 
the day when Field Koyal, where I have lived, maid, wife and widow, these forty 
years, would pass out of the hands of the Gaunts, and be giveu up to strangers. 

Smylie. Ah, to be ^ure, to be sure. It's very sad, ver^ sad, indeed, to see the 
old name die out. I did hope that poor Sr Richard would have shown some desire 
for a reconciliation with his da: gbttr, after all these long years of estrangement ; but 
I was mistaken— quite mistaken, I regret to say. 

Mrs B. Ah, dear me, sir, it we could only be sure that the poor dear lady was 
alive, even — 

Smtlie. Yes yes. But all my inquiries have hitherto resulted in disappoint- 
ment. My advertisements have met with no replies, and I am afraid, I am very much 
afraid — {Shaking head.) 

{Enter Withfrs, an old, white-headed man.) 

Smylie. Some one arriving. Withers, eh ? 

WiTHELS. Yes, sir ; her ladyship and Miss Blanchmayne. 

Smylie. Well, well, if you will show me to my room I will get rid of a little of 
the dust of the road before presenting myself to the ladies. 

WiTHEES. Certainly, sir. This way, it you please. Mrs. Bunn, you will wait 
and receive her ladyship. (Rtit, following Smylie, L H.) 

Mrs. B. Receive her ladyship, indeed ! I could show her ladyship out with a 
much better heart. 

{Enter Lady B. and Baby, R H.) 

Lady B. How is this, Mrs. Bunn— no one to meet me at the door? It is like 
coming to a hotel. 

Mrs. B. {Curtseying stiffly.) I beg your pardon, my lady; I was giving a few last 
instructions to the servants. 

Lady B. That will be my care in future. I always attend to the household du- 
ties in per^on. 

Mes. B. Very well, my lady. {Aside.) She's got tbe money. 

Lady B. The place is in a wretched condition, I find ; the park and gardens, in 
particular, have been shameluJly neglected— grass and weeds choking up all the 
l^aths. 

Mes. B. You know, my lady, my late master was what people called eccentiic. 
He liked to see the trets and flowers ruuning 'wild, and gave orders that everybody in 
his service was to respect what he called the handiwok of Heaven. 

Lady B. ("Putting handke: chief to eyes.) Delightful creature ! Benevolent 
being ! Too earJy taken from his sorrowing family. {To Mrs B.) 1 shall see that 
these walks are weeded and laid down with gravel directly. 

Mes. B. Certainly, my lady. {Aside ) Oh, it's as clear as day — the money's left 
to her. 

Lady B. Major Whjte has not yet arrived ? 

Mas. B. Not yet, my lady. 

Lady B, Very well, that will do; you can go. Oh, Mrs Bunn, you will see tiat 
my maid is comfortable, please, and has all that she reqinres ! 

Mes. B. Yes, my lady. (Exit.) 

Baby. [Sdtmg ciouin with a sigh.) How I wish it was 12 o'clock ! After tbe wj 11 
is read I can marry Bertie, can't i, mamma ? 

Lady B. What do you say, ci.iid? 

Baby. I said that, now I am going to be so rich, there is nothing to prevent my 
marrying Berlie, is there, mamma? 

Lady B. Ami not to be consulted, then, in the matter ? 

Baby. But, mamma, when you wanted me to many Sir Kichnrd you used to say 
that he was very old, and that as fcoon as ever I was a widdw I might bave Bertie, if I 
liked. 



16 

Lady B. Are you a widow ? 

Baby. It i^ not my fault if 1 am not. I would have accepted Sir Richard, only 
he never proposed, and 1 couldn't propose, could I, mamma? So it isn't my fault. 

Lady B. Is it mine? 

Baby. {Etuphatically. ) No indeed, mamma ; but — 

Lady B. No buts ! I want you to understand, once for all. that I have no in- 
tention of throwing my daughter, at the head of a beggarly clerk in the tvv^elve to 
four ofl&ce ! 

Baby. But I am so awfully in love with him Mamma ! 

Lady B. You are in love with his moustac he, or his pretty little air of fati-^ue 
and mystery. ° 

Baby. Well, the poor fellow is weighed down by state secrets, of course, isn't 
he mamma ? 

Lady B. Or by an eudeavor to invent some means of dinposing of his time 
during office hours, when he has finished reading the news papers, and polishing 
his nails ! . ^ ^ 

Baby. Yes mamma, he says that is what bothers him, poor boy ! and that the 
clerks rre sometimes actually redr.ced to writing poetr3^ He recited some of his to 
me, at Lady Fellowes one day, buch touching lines, aren't they mamma ? 

12 to 1 There's nothing done, 

1 to 2 There's nothing to do, 

2 to 3 We begin to see. 

That 3 to 4 Is an awliil bore ! {sighs deeply) 

(Enter Major Whyie. M, H.) 

Major. Ah, my dear lady. Lady Blanclimayne, Miss Blanchmayne ! I kiss 
your hand ! First in the field, my dear lady, I see ! 

Lady B. On this occasion, ouly, my dear, Major ! I am sure I hope your anxiety 
in the matter of the Requiem, which I heard of yesterday, may be rewarded as it de- 
serves. 

Majoe. (coolly,) Oh, your ladyship actually condescended to enter into rivalry 
with me, then? 

Lady B. It cannot be poss.ble, Major, that you are siill expecting to inherit ? 

Majob. May I ask, if you are indulging in any sach seductive vision ? 

Lady B. I really thought you had passed the age of illusions. Major. 

Majok. Oh, Lady Blanchmayne, when I still think so well of you. 

Lady. B My poor Major ! people had unfortuntely lowered you sadly in my 
cousins estimation. 

Major. Indeed, and may I ask how ? 

Lady B. By speaking the truth about you ! 

Baby. He used to eay that you were a spendthrift, that if he left you his fortune 
you would swallow it in one gulp ; and so you would, wouldn't he. Mamma? 

Lady B. My dear, be more guarded in your expressions i ray ! I must do Sir 
Richard the justice to saj'. Major, that in spite of all this, he was often good enough 
to pity you, though, as he was aware that you were counting on this inheritance to 
pay your debts, I think he pitied your creditors still more ! 

Baby. And now you see it is our debts, and not your^^ that will be paid, isn't 
it, Mamma? 

Major, {Laughing.) Delicious candor ! 

Lady B. {A.side to Biby.) Hold yoar tongue, you goose, do. {Alolld.^ My 
dear child, pray go and ask Spicer for my fan ; perhaps I may have left it in the 
carriage. 

Baby. No, mamma, there it is hanging from your Chatelaine. 

Lady B. Yts, yes ; but I me n my other f^n. 

Baby. Oh, you mean I am to go out of the room, don't you, mamma ? I don't 
min 1 in the least, now the major has come. Exit. 

Major. {Laughing and taking snuff.) The cunning of a demon and the simplicity 
of au angel. Really, I wonder how our dear departed relative could ever have with- 
stood such a combination ! 

Lady B. What am I to infer from that remark? 

Major. Come, come, my dear Lady Bianchmayne ! Of course we all know you 
wanted poor Sir Richard to n.arry your charmiuK daughter ! 

LadyB. And have we not heard something of your attempt to induce the un- 
forturate man to look upon you as a son? 

Major. To be sure. Sir Richard was a trifle elderly for such a blooming bride. 

Lady B. Though hardly old en^ ugh to have a child of your mature age, dear 
Major ! 



lY 

Majoe. Well, a truce to compliments, my dear larly, at least for the present. 
In a moment or two, doubtless, Smylie will be htrre. v/ith our destinies under his 
arm. {Noise.) I bear a carriage. Our good frieiui ivncl liwyer. i^Goes io window.) 
No; I tbink I know those horses and the young ft J i. vv who is driving them. You 
remember him, do you not, my lady? 

Lady B, {Gois to window and t.ciers an 'xdamatlon of annoyance.) I see you re- 
memVer bim. And do you know, I think Miss Blancnmayne has forgotten your fan. 
I hear her artless accf nts in t;.e hall ! 

(B, -enUr Bahy dragging on Bertie. A very languid swell) 

Baby. Eigerly. Oh, mammri, what do you think? t^ertie Ffolliott has come 
all the wav Irom lown. 

Lady B. {Patting up glasses.) How do you do, Mr. 

Baby. PfoJliott, mamma ; Bertie Ff.Uiott, don't you remember, whom we used 
to f(e so much of last season, when he had expectations from his aunt, Lady Chil- 
lingham? She is d* ad now, you know, and has lefc all her money to some one else ; 
BO w^ don't know Bertie so wfll tbi« season, t'o we maujma? 

Lady B. My dear ! I beg your pardon, Mr. Ffoliiott, I did liot r:Cognize you at 
first. 

Beetie WithoiU th^^ gilding, jou mean? it does make a diifefence. How 
d'ye do. Major? {They shake hands.) 

Lay)Y B. {Taking Baby as'de.) Will you never learn a little common sense? 
Wb&t on earth could iudu'.e you to c^jII the younjj m^'n " Bertie." 

Baby, He's not a bit a igry. I kuo.v he isrt'v, because be called me Baby. 

Lady B, Don't let i?ie see you jxddiess another word to him to-day, mind ! 

Baby. Oh, mamma ! 

L\dyB. Hold y ur tongue ! 

Bektie. By Jove! {With eye glasses) Do you know. Lady Blanchmayne is 
i"eal:y a splendid woman ! the finest shoulders in LoEdon, really ! 

Major. Huve you ouly just made the discovery ? 

Beetie. Well, you see, before my aunt died Lady Blanchmayne never gare me 
an opportunity. 

Major. You were summoned, of course? 

Bertie, l^'es, deuce o. ly knows why, I suppose, Baby comes in for aU the 
money ? 

Major. May I ask your reasons for supposing so? 

Beetie. {Alarm- d.) With the thermometer at 90, I would rather not undertake 
to find a reas )n lor anything. 

{Enter Mr. Smylie.) 

Smylie Good morning, good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Glad to see 
you all so punctual. 

Lady B. Good morniiig, Mr. Smylie. I believe the meeting is now complete? 

Smylie. Not quite, your ladyship, not quite. 

Major. For whom are we waiting, may I inquire ? 

Smtlie. For one or two people I have been compelled to summon, in accord- 
ance with my late client's express desire. If th^y are not here on the stroke of 12, 
however, I sball proceed to read the will without them. 

Major. Why, it is i.oob already. 

Smylie. {tShowing watch. ) I think not, I th'nk not. It wants three minutes, 
Major Whyte. Ihe suu s always regulated by my watch ! 

Major. Beady as ever, my dear Smylie. (Mxisic. Voices heard outside.) 

Lady B. What is all this noise? Really, if we are to be disturbed in this 
way 

Smylie. It is mere'y our friends arriving, I daresay. 

{Smylif goei to table and sits. Enter Jack, hoel and Madge, C. Jack is disputitig 

with Withers.) 

Jack Hang it all, let my dog come in ! 

WiTHiiES. i tell you, sir, dogs are not allowed in the drawing rooms. 

Jack. (Advanchig ) Ladies, gentlemen, just tell shem to let my dog Van come 
in. Hfci'ii lie under the chair and disturb nobody. 

Maj E, {To Smylie.) I presume these are the " few people " who have done us 
the honor to keep us waiting, Mr. Smylie ? 

6mi'lie. Quite right, Major, quite right. These are the persons to whom Sir 
Hichard wished to .^how a liitie posthumous atteatioa. And they bre in good time, 
iagoodtiae. It still wants three-quarters of a minute to twelve. 

Major. And is this gentleman's dog " Van ' mentioned in the will, may I venture 
to inquire ? » 



18 

Smtlib. I believe not, Major, I believe not. 

Major. In that case we will dispense "with his society. {To Withers.) Take 
the brate away ! 

Jack. ^Talking to dog,) You hear that, my poor old Van? No admission here 
except on business. You go and wait lor me under the window outside. I shan't be 
1 ong. And no nonsense now, do you hear? 

Baby. Oh, look, mamma ! These are the people who live up so high in Lon- 
don, and told us the story yesterday, aren't they, mamma? 

Lady B. I believe they are, really. Yes, 1 recognize the person who sold mo 
the music. 

Bektie. {Over Baby's chair.) You actually know these queer people, Miss 
Blanchmayne ? 

Baby. Oh, yes; don't we, mamma? We went lo see them in such a funny little 
room under the roof, wliere there was a pimo, and pictures, and things. And the 
dog growled outside the door, and wanted to bite Jenkins' ankles, didn't he, mamma? 

Bertie. ( VFitk eyeglass, siaring at Madge. ) Beally, not a bad-looking girl, if she 
were decently dressed. And now I lojk agiin, nhe's positively pretty ! 

Baby. {Eagerly. ) Oh, sweetly pretty ! Only I don't like her style. And she's 
quite pLain-looking when you come close to her, isn't she, mamma ? 

Lady B, My dear ! 

MuoK. {Ling'iid'y. ) My little composer, as I live ! Good morning, Mr. — ah — 
Blake! This meeting is an unexpected pleasure, really. I trust you have not re- 
peated your liberality wlt'n legard to the requiem— or the money? 

Noel. I am here, sir, by the lawyer's invitation, and shall endeavor to make 
my intrusion as brief as possible. 

Major. I see; very sensible. And your friend ia velveteen, is he also included 
in Mr. Sm} lie's invitation ? 

Noel. My fiiend Mr. Beamish can answer for himself, I believe. 

Majob An, the amiable aitint; I recognize him now. No, thanks, I will take 
him for granted. I can't conceive, though, how Sir Eichard came to omit your 
friend's interesting protege "Van" from his wit I ! 

Jack. {Seriously. ) Well, the fact is, they were only slightly acquainted. 

JiEKTiE. {Brawling.) Fond of dogs, I see ! 

Jack. (Curtly ) Yes, when they are fall grown Poor, old Van ! He has only 
one fault in the world, and that is, an immoderate weakness for trowsers patterns. 

Lady B. Really !— this person — 

Major. I remember he disputed my entrance, yesterday. 

Baby. Yes, and bit Jenkins' calves— didn't he, Mamma ? 

Smylie. Rather an inconvenient possession, this dog ! Rather inconvenient I 

Jack. Awful. y ! and expensive too ! We have realsy been obliged to establish 
a tariff for his little peccadiiloes ; so much for the mere cloth; so much when 
his teeth go deeper ! 

Noel. (Aside ) My dear fellow, you can hai dly expect these ladies to feel much 
interested in such details. 

Jack. All right 1 I didn't begin it. But they might be decently polite to Madge, 
I think, and ask her to sit down. Poor child ! you are very tired, aren't you ? And 
your pretty hair is all covered with dust ! 

Madge. Oh, never mind. Jack ! The jo arney was very hot and tiresome, cer- 
tainly; but, as soon as this business is over, we can go back to the Inn in the village, 
and have dinner in that little room over-lookii^g the river. 

Jack. To be sure ! I'll stand a bottle ot Barguudy. I say, Noel ! turds round, 
where is he ? I declare, he's making up to her ladyship already. Bless the boy, he 
takes to fine company like a duck to water ! 

Madge. He's talking about his Music, no doubt— look Jack ! there is that pret- 
ty girl again, who came to the Studio, 

Noel (coming down.) Madgp, come here ! Why how hot and dusty you look; I 
want to take you lo L idy Blanchmayne. 

Jack. Tbat will cool her, at any rate. 

Noel, (taking Madge up.) Lady Blanchmayne, you were good enough yesterday 
to show a little attention to my cousin, Miss Heskett. Will you allow me thank you 
in the name of my future wife ? 

Lady B. (Coldly ) I congratulate you, I am sure; It is never too late to escape 
from an equivocal position. 

Madgk. What did she say, Jack? 

Jack. Nothing, child ! some fine lady nonsense. 

Behtie. You do marry then, occasionally, you Artists? 

Jack. Yes — and occasionally regret it, like you swells. 

Lady B. What are we waiting for now, Mr. Smylie ? 



19 

Smtlie. Nothing — Nothing more, I believe. Pray be seated, ladies and gentle- 
men, if you please. 

Majok. Lady Blanchmayne ! 

( Offers hand io Lady B. and Icad^ her to chair. Noel takes a seat, absorbed in looking 
about room, etc. Jack lead ^ Madge, and places her chair near IfoeVs, sitting a 
little behind himself. Smylie prepaying papers, etc. ) 

Noel. What luxury this is, Madge, Eh ! Did you ever see such a splendid old 
room? (All seited.) 

Madge. It is very handsome, certainly, but it looks cold, I think, and formal ! 

Jak. (Looking about. ) Not a corner in it where a fellow could smoke his pipe, 
with pleasure. 

Lady B. "We are quite ready, at last, I believe ! 

Smylie. (Sitting at ia'.le) This is the last Will and Testament of Sir Kichard 
Gaunt, on the eve of his death, the Earouet deposited it in my hands himself, closed 
and sealed with his coat of arms. You all observe that the seals are intact. 

{Holdbtg up large Packet. ) 

Jack, {Half rising. ) Perfectly intact, the whole four of them. 

Major. Ycs, yes; pray go on, Mr Smylie, I beg. 

Noel. Do sit d3wn. Beamish ! (Jwk sits doitn. ) 

Smylie. The document being entirely written by the hand of the Testator, is 
what is technically termed, an olograph — 

Majoe. Go on, pray, go ou, Mr Smylie. You are not here, I presume, to give 
us lessons in Will making. Get to bu bines s, Sir, I beg ! 

Smylie. I will delay no longer. ( Coughs. ) This is the fall, free and entire ex- 
pression of my last wishes. Having always conBidered my great wealth, as a sacred 
trust deposited in my hands, I desire that the work of justice and of charity, which I 
have endeavored to carry out during my lifetime, may not be interrupted by my 
death. 

Lady B. Fear nothing, noble creature. 

Major. No, no Rest in peace, my friend. 

Smylie. (Reading.) *' But as I have met with coldness, neglect and ingratitude 
from my own flesh and blood, I am compelled to entrust the coniinuance of the work 
to the hands of a stranger." 

Lady B. ( Wovyided.) I have not deserved such a word from Sir Jlichard. 

Major. (Reassuring her.) The words are merely figurative, my dear lady. Pray 
proceed, Mr. Smylie. 

bMYLiE. " To Alicia, Lady Blanchmayne, my cousin in the 8th degree, in con- 
sideration of the many tedious hours endured by her in an old man's society, I be- 
queath sn annuity of £100." 

Lady B. A tjundred a year ! There must be some ridiculous mistake. 

Smylie. I have read the passage quite correct, I believe— quite correctly. 
Jlepeating. "An annuity of £100." 

Baby. Oh, the mean old thing ! And he knew all about the debts, too, didn't 
he, mamma? 

Major. (Offering smelling salts.) Dear Lady Blanchmayne ; 

Jack. (Aside to Madge. ^ This is good fun, this is, 

Madge. Poor girl, I am sorry for her. 

Lady B. ( With an amiable air.) Go on, pray. Mr. Smylie. 

Smylie. (Reading.) '* To my cousin by mardage, Major Spott Whyte, of Wran- 
gle's Hussars, in the Austrian ser ^ ice, I bequeath my celebrated Cremona, for which 
he has always professed so much admiration." 

Major. May I trouble y u to repeat that passage, my dear Smylie ? 

Smylie. (Reading.) " My celebrated Cremona, for which — '* 

Major. (Interrupting politely. ) Thnnk you ; that will do. 

Lady B. (Offering salts.) Dear Major ! (He declines.) 

Jack. (To Madge.) This is very good fun, this is. 

Smylie. (Reading.) "To Mr. Herbert FfoUiott I bequeath the sum of £5,000, 
which, coupled with his private means, will enable him to marry my cousin, Misa 
Blanchmayne, and thereby rescue the girl he love^i from any less desirable union." 

Lady B, (Wrathfally.) Impertinent interference ! 

Baby. (Clapping htr hands.) Oh., whsit & dea.T old thing I (Piteously.) Wasn't he, 
now, Mr. Ffolliott ? 

Beetie. (Curling his mustache.) Too dear. Miss Blanchmayne, I'm afraid. 

Major. Now that we have each received our whipping, Mr. Smylie, and that in 
the presence of total strangers, may I venture to enquire who does get all the money? 

Smylie. That we must soon discover, Major Whyte. (Reads,) " To Miss Has- 
k«tt— " 



Madge. (Rising.) Tome? 

Smylie. "I leave my cameo ring, and I beg that good and charming young lady 
to wear it in remembrance of her old friend." 

Madge. How kind of him ! I will wear the ring as ]ong as I live. 

Jack. {In a satisfied tone.) This Sir Bichard was evident. y a man of great dis- 
crimination. 

Smtlie. Silence, please, silence ! {Beads.) " To John Besmish — " 

Jack. {Rising.) That's me 

Smylie. {Reads.) *• Artist, living in London — " 

Jack. Great Charlotte St., Fitztoy Square. 

Smylie. *' Desiring to recompense his touching devotion to his fiiend, Noel 
Blake." 

Jack. Oh, bosh ! 

Smylie. "And to enable him at the same time to cultivate his art with ample 
freedom from care." 

Jack. Ah ! that's more like. 

Smylie. " I bequeath, as the price of a picture ordered by me, and which will 
become the property of my heir, the sum of £1,000." 

Jack. {Sinking inlo chair, pulling out ha i.dker chief and moppiv.g his head.) £1.000 ! 

Madge. {Rising and taking his hand.-^ in great delight.) Dear, dear, Jack. I am so 
glad ! Oh, Noel, did you hear ? 

Noel. C Bitterly.) How well I knew you would be the lucky one ! 

Jack. Nonsense, man ! Doesn't the money belong to both of us — to all three 
of us 1 

Smylie. Silenf^e, please, silence, gentlemen. {Reads.) " Wi>h regard to Noel 
Blake " 

Jack. {Nodding delighted y. ) Now for your turn, old boy. Another £1,000,111 
betl 

SiviYliiE {reads.) "As music has been the one great passion of my life, and as I 
have recognized in this young composer a very exceptional genius — " 

Jack. {Waving handkerchief.) Hear, hear. 

Smylie. "I desire to give thit genius the ease and leisure necessary to its com- 
plete development — " 

Jack. (Excitedly.) Bravo. {To Noel) What did I tell you ? 

Smylie. "And having little doubt that Noel Blake will make the same use of 
riches as I have done myself—" 

Noel. Great hsavens ! 

Jack. {More and more excited. ) I'll answer for him. Go on, go on. 

Smylie. " I constitute him, with the exception of the aforesaid annuities and 
bequests, my sole heir ! " {Sits down.) 

NoEii. Me ! 

{Jack and Madge congratulate him. Jack throws up his hat, etc.) 
Majob. {Taking snuff.) That is the last straw. {Rises.) 

{Lady B. , Baby and Bertie surround Major, eagerly discussing the matter. ) 

Noel. Jack ! Madge ! Is it a dream ? 

Jack. It is yoar favorite dre^m realized, old man. You wished for money, and, 
egad, you've got it ! 

Noel. £30.000 a y.ar. That's what the paper said ! £30,000 a year. 

Jack. No more lessons. No more drudgt^iy. What a glorious career is before 
you, my dear boj'. You will give the world a second Mozart ! 

Noel. And ihis splendid place lo live in, the houpe whtre we were so scornfully 
received only an hour ago ! Ha ! It is our turn to laugh now ! {Rubbing his hands 
excitedly. ) 

Smylie. (Cowing down ) Allow me to offer my congratulations, Mr. Blake. You 
have come in for a rtry beautiful as wt-il as a wealthy e-state. Field Koyal is one of 
the most charujing wpots iu England — in England, 1 assure you. From this window 
you can partly juuge of the extent of th'i pioperry, and — 

{Noel, Smy'ie and Madge go up to window. Jack follows them with his eyes.) 

Jack. To think that my little girl is to be a fine lady, and to walk in silk attira 
for the rest of her lite. ( Wdh emotion.) Well, God bless her and her husband, say 1. 
Majob. My lady ? 



21 

LadyB. Major? 

Major. Will you oblige me by sending your daughter for that other fan once 
more? 

Lady B. And why, pray? 

Majob. {Slgmficantly.) Oblige me. 

Lady B. Oh, if you wish. Baby, my dear, go and say good bye to j^our pro- 
perty before we start. 

Baby. Good bye ! Why, I haven't said how-do-you-do to it yet. Have I, 
mamma ? 

Majob. Then you can kill two birds with one stone, my dear Miss Blanch- 
mayne ! ( Takes snuff. ) 
(Jack pointing pencil and sketching through window ; Madge look'ng over his shoulder, 
he makes an easel of large book on table. ) 

Bertie. Miss Blanch mayne, in the absence of a more eligible escort. 

Baby. (^Eagerly.) Oh, will you realiy? Come along; we are only going on the 
terrace, mamma; aren't we, Mr. Ffolliott? 

{They exeuuK) 

Ma JOE. And now, Lady Blanch mayne, what is your opinion of tliis singular 
affair ? 

Lady B. I say that we will not put up vnth it. We must dispute the will. 

'Major. Impossible ! 

Lady B. Wny ? 

Major. Because neither of us is related in a sufficienlly close degree to inherit, 
and if the will were ^et aside the property would all go to the Crown ! 

Lady B. It is positively scandalous . 

Major. But, it we cannot act against this Mr. Blake we may act upcn him. 

LadyB. How? 

Major. This sudden stroke of fortune will turn the fellow's head. 

Lady B. You think so ? 

Major. I can read faces. He is a conceited ass. 

LadyB. But what use can we make of his conceit? 

Major. The situation calls for absolute and reciprocal confideiice. I will set 
the example by admitting that lama ruined man. 

LadyB. Well? 

Major. {With meaning.) He is decidedly good looking, this young Blake, and if 
he were taken in hand by a man of the w«>rld— really, my dear Lady Blanchmayne, 
he would be a superb match for any young ladv. 

Lady B. But these dreadful people be is connected with — this engagement 
which he has formed? 

Major. He can be taught to be ashamed of all that. A little clever handling 
is all that is required, i think we understand each other? 

LadyB. {Giving Jiim her hand.) Pray cj.11 my daughter back ! 

Major With pleasure. 

{Emit Major, to return almost immediately with Baby, followed languidly by Berlie. ) 
Smylie. {^Coming down with Noel.) The suddenness and siiort duration oi Sir 
Kichard's illness has left his affairs in a somewhat confused state, I am afraid. It 
would perhaps facilitate the preparation of a cfear stateiuent if I had y* ur peimis- 
sion to go through the mass of papers and documents which are at present locked 
up under my seal. 

^OEL. By all meann; I place the room entirely at your disposal. 
{Enter Mrs. Bunn.^ 

Smilie. Oh, this is the housekeeper, Mr. Blake; I have no doubt she is anxious 
to see her new maste r 1 

BuNN. {To Noel, curtseying.) Wishing you joy, sir, Im sure. And perhaps you 
would like to see the house. 

Noel. Yes, of course we will go over the honse. Come, Madge, I want you to 
speak to the housekeeper at once, and ( Going. J 

Lady B. One moment, I beg, Mr. Blake. Diirmo: onr interview yesterday at 
your studio a slight misunderstanding arose between us, which I am anxious to re- 
pair. I aeked your wife, then as i supposed, to accept a little souvenir — will you 
allow me now to offer it to your betrothed ? 

Major. (Aside.) Bravo? {Rubbing Hands.) The thin edge of the wedge ! 

Noel.- {Flattered.) You are tco kind ! - 

Jack. {Aside.) What is her ladycship up to now, I -wonder ? 

Lady B. Baby, come here, my dear child. {^Takes Locket from her neck.) 

Baby. Oh. mamma, you are not going to give my locket to that girl 1 

Lady B. {Bringing Madge down— to Baby.) Hush ! Will you allow me, n;y dear 
Miss Haskett, to fasten my daughter's little locket round»your neck? 



12 

MADGfi. (Surprised.) You are very good, but— * 

Jack. (Aside.) There is something under this sudden burst of amiability. 

Lady B. iPuit'mg chain on Madge's neck.) It has no value beyond what you may 
please to attach to it. But I hope it may prove a bond ot friendship between you 
and my little girl. 

Madge. (,Wiik simple kindness.) Will you let me be your friend, Miss Blanch^ 
mayne ? 

Baby. Yes; but my locket. [Lady B. Pinches her.) Oh, yes, of course; I shall be 
delighted. ( Tae girls go up together.) 

Noel. On a day like this. Lady BLnchmayne, your kindness is doubly kind. 

Ma JOB. {Haf aside to Lady B., and watching Noel.) A master-stroke, my Lady, 
Now it is my turn. ( Sighs deeply. ) Come, my dear Lady B., it is really time for ua to 
be thinking of taking our leave. 

Noel. You are going already ? 

Lady B. Yes; there is nothing to detain us further at Field Royal. {Sighs, ) 

Madge. But you have only just arrived, and Miss Blanchmayne is so tired. 

Noel. My cousin is right. In our excitement we were forgetting. lodeed, we 
should hardly have ventured to suggest; but now — 

Jack. {Carelessly, ) It's too late for you to set out to-day; you had much better re. 
main here for the night at least. You can consider yourselves in Sir Richard's house 
if you like. 

Lady B. I really dont know whether I ought. 

Noel. As you are generous enough to forgive my good fortune, I am sure you 
are too good to wish to humiliate me by a refusal of my hospitality. 

Jack. ( To Madge. ) Listen to the rascal. Talks like the hero of a fashionable 
novel. 

Majob. Well, well, I-ady Blanchmayne; let us accept Mr. Blake's invitation, if 
only for the oddity of the thing. It will be a good joke to see the relations who ar» 
disinherited in the character ot guests to the strangers who inherit. 

Lady B. If you really think so, Major — 

Noel, Thank you; believe me I feel the honor deeply. 

{Enter Withers.) 

Noel. What do you want ? 

Withers. I have come to take my new master's orders. 

Noel. Oh, you are the steward. I remember. Well, I wish you to — 

Madqe. {'laking him aside. ) Dear Noel you will not be angry with me if I beg m 
favor, the first I have ever asked ? 

Noel. {Patronizingly.) Angry, my dear child? Certainly not. 

Madge. Tiaen, as it is to Jack that we owe our happiness, and in return for the 
many sacrifices he has made in our behalf, will you ask him to give the first order in 
our new home ? 

Noel. Well, of course the servants will naturally look to me for instructions; 
but siace you wish it, my dear girl, and for this once — {To Withers.) I must refer 
you to this gentleman, Mr. Beamish, for the present. 

Jack. ( Closing sketch-hook and standing up. ) To me ! {Music.) 

Noel. {In a patronizing tone.) Yes, dear old boy, I wish you to give the first order 
in my— in our new home 

( Withers^ turning to Jack and bowing with old-fashioned respectfulness.) 

Withers. What can I do for you, sir ? 

(Ja:k, putting hands in pockets and looking triumphantly at Major and Lady B.) 

Jack. Send me my dog. 

Curtain falls. 

Note. — For call, let Van be discovered in Jack's arms 



r<^^y- 



ACT in. 



SCENE: Gardens of Fidd Royal prepared for a Feie ; Exterior of House, delete; 
Tent at back; (Music;) Bertie on Verandah in Easy Chair Smoking. Baby Enters 
slowly in Garden dress and hat ! 

Baby, {-not seeing Berlin) Mamma saw Mr. Blake crossing the lawn just now, 
and she says I am to meet him here accidentally, and keep him uutil she comes. 
I hate Mr. Blake? Mamma thinks it is wicked of me, because he is so rich, but I 
can't helu it. I do hate him, and his great stupid house, and the color of his hair, 
and the way he looks at me, and everything. (Sits down. ) If Bertie would ooly a8< 
me, I would run away. Hut he won't ! He says he is too poor to marry me now — as 
if I cared for that ! 1 knew a girl once who married a curate, and he used to wear 
carpet slippers, and they had tea and shrimps every day at six o'clock, because they 
couldn't afford to dine, and they were so happy ! I wouldn t mind living on tea and 
shrimps with Bertie— no, not one bit. And I could work his slippers myself, so that 
need not cost anything, but if he wont suggest it, I can't be expected to be^^in. 
Ob, dear me ! why do poor peop e ever fall in love ? 

(Enter Noel. ) 
Noel Miss Blanchmayne ! and dressed so early, this is a delightful surpri-e. 
Baby. Yes isn't it ? That is what Mamma did it for. She made me run the pins 
into my fingers dreadfully, so as to be in time to meet yon, and then I came here, 
quite by chance of course. 

Noel. And what a charming Toilette I I am afraid you have laid yourself open 
to a great many nnamiable remarks from my fair guests to day. A woman may for- 
give another for being prettier than herself, but never for being better dressed. 

Baby. Oh, you do Uke my dress then ? It would have been an awful waste of 
money if you h^d not ! Mamma, said she might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, 
and that as Mme. Elise's bill was so long already, that one more item could not 
make much difference ; could it Mr. Blake ? 

Noel. If I had my will. Miss. Blanchmayne, flowers should bloom under your 
feet all the year round; 

Baby. Tbat would ba verv nice really ! I like flowers especially artificial ones 
for ball dresses, but it wouldn't be much use towards paying bills, would it ? and 
even tea and shrimps cost money Mamma says. 

Noel. M^mma must talk prudence now and then to pretty daughters. 
Baby. I \\ish it was only now, and then ; Mamma is always saymg I cause her 
reat uneasiness, Mr. Blake 

Noel (Sen'im^nially.) A piece of cruelty, Miss Blanchmayne, is guilty of in 
the case of another pers )n I could name. 

Baby. She says I shall end by marrying some fool or other, and yet that is just 
what she he. self wants me to begin by doing, isn't it now, Mr. Blake? 

Bebtie. {Asida rising from char to verandah.) I don't think Baby will beat that 
remark, if she tries for a week. ( Coming down. ) 

BvBY. Shall I have to sit out the Concert this afternoon. Mr. Blake? Mamma 
has forbidden me to fall asleep, because you composed so many of the pieces. {Start" 
ing as Bertie approaches. ) Good gracit)us, Bertie, I mean Mr. Ffolliott, how you 
started me ! and how delicious that cigarette does smell ! I wish 2 could smoke ! It 
makes a man look so wise when he has got nothing to sav ! 

Bebtie. Miss Heskett, allows me to fumigate her flowers occasionally. You 
don't smoke, Blake? 

Noel. I ? no— not mach— that is — (Aside.) What the deuce does he want here 
now? 

Baby ( Irritably ) I think a man who does not smoke looks so ridiculous, doesn't 
he, Mr. Blake ? 

Noel. Oh, when I say that I don't smoke much, I mean — 
Bertie. That you smoke a great deal? to be sure. {Aside.) Strikes me the 
conversation is beginning to languish, I am evidently not a success as Gooseberry. 
{Gnng.) Poor little Baby ! She ought to have more sense tkian to m\ke faces over the 
common lot ! The very common lot one might say. ( Tctiening. ) If one could ever 
be rqd§ tp a njillionaire 1 » (^it J 



\ 



2i 

Baby. {Half crying.) There now, he's gone ; and I suppose I shall not see him 
again all day. 

Noel 1 have ventured to send you a boquet, Miss Blanchmayne, which I 
think will harmonize with your costume. I selected the flowers myself. 

Baby. ( Looking after .Berlie indifferently. ) Oh, thank you, I'm sure. 

Noel. And if, in return, I dare ask you to give me one ? 

Baby. {SiiU looki/uj (ff.) I should have to do it, of course, mamma would 
make me. 

Noel Then g'ant me that rose which you have worn for an hour, and I will 
keep it and treasure it for life ! 

Baby. Which, this ? {Taking it hurriedly fiom her dress without looking at him and 
holding it out.) Here it is. Oh, yoa need not thank me for it, you can take it as a 
present from mamma 

NoiiL. it is giv« n by yonr hand, at least! {Takes flower and is about to kiss her 
haul wh-^n Jack eners foVowed by Mrs. Bann. ) Confound it. I believe every soul in 
the house has selected this spot as their piace ot rendezvous to-day, {Goes up >Hlh 
Baby.) 

Jack. {Aside.) I could have sworn he was kissing that girl's hand. It must have 
beeu my fancy. 

Mrs. B. Yes, sir, I sent the order to town la^t week, as you desired, and the 
ihinps came down this morning, and beautiful they look, to be sure. 

Jack. And you had money enough? 

Mks. B. Lord bless you, yes, and to spare ! 

Jack. That's all right. Then you must accept what is left to bny yourself 
something splendid in caps. I am very much obliged to you, Sirs. Buun. 

Mks. B. Don't mentioa it, sir, gr odness knows it's a* pleasure to do anything for 
you or for the young lady and af.er your many favors to me. 

Jack. Oh nonsense ! Kun off with you, like a good old soul, and mind you 
keep dark now ; do you hear? , 

Mrs, B. Never fear me, Mr. Beamish. I would not spoil sport, not for twenty 

{Exit,) 

Jack. {Looking at Noel and Baby. ) Well, what the deuce Noel can find to ia"k 
about to that little goose I can't conceive ! After Madge's bright f ice and dear little 
womanly ways. I suppose it is his business to do the polite to his guests ; but, by 
Jove, I don't envy him the. privilege in the present instance ! 

{Noel and Baby come down. ) 

Baby. {Wdh an air of relief.) Oh, here is Mr. Beamish ! I suppose I may go 
now; mayn't I, Mr. Blake? Mamma didn't say I was to amxise him, you know ; 
did she? 

Jack, (Wdh point. ) And yet, Miss Blanchmayne, you do. 

Baby. {Aside ) 1 can t-ee Bertie on the Jawn still. {Hurriedly.) "When mamma 
comes you will ttll her I did talk to you for a iong time, won t you, Mr. Bluke ? 
{^Rans off.) ^c 

Jack. Well, old fellow, you dese.ve a medal from the Humane Society, and no 
mistake. 

Noel. What do you mean ? 

Jack. That your duly efforts to rescue that poor little brainless soul for a time 
from mamma's terrible clutches can ouiy be promjited by the sublimest h roism on 
yoar part. 

Noel. (Stiffly.) I find Miss Blanchmayne a very agreeable girl ; she may not be 
particularly cJever. 

Jack. {Drily. ) No. 

iCoEL. But ^he is a lady born and bred. It would do Madge no harm, let me 
tell you, if she had a little of Miss Blanchmayne's leiinemeut. 

Jack. Nor Miss Blanchmayne if she held a little, a very little, of Madge's heart 
and brain I Are we to be iixor^d much longer with th- "presence of your noble 
flit ndb ? 

Noel. I hope so. Lady Blanchmayne, hearing that my cousin had no female 
relations of her own living, has kindly proposed to remain at Field Royal as chapeiou 
to Madge. 

Jack. Chaperon to Madge ! Why, what harm could come to our girl with that 
jolly old Bunn in the Louse? I'm ^ure she is re ptctable enough, and big enough to 
frighten away a whole regirueat of dragoons. 

Noll. {Jmpatiemty.) You don't understand. People who are in society must 
conloriu to its rules. 



I 



25 

Jack. In society? Ah, to be sure, I forgot that you had the honor of dining at 
the Ducb€ss of Kiiz Battleaxe's last week. 

Noel. An he n"r which I owe to Lady Blaiichmayne. Thanks to her influence, 
I l3ave been leceived by the best tet in the county, and the Duchess herself is lo 
grace my first garden paity today wiih ber prestnce. 

Jack. Lite can have n nhing better in st )re for us, after that ! And the Major? 
Is his company also nece-siry to ih-:- r S[)ectabi!ity of our house ? 

Noel. (Coldly.) The Major remains at my request . Is there anything else jou 
would like to ask ? 

Jack. I'm dumb. Don't let me keep you from your friends any longer. 

(Going.) 

Noel. (Irrifahy.) Look here, Jack ! Do you intend to wear that suit of clothes 
for the rest of your liie? 

Jack. I m afraid not. I shall have to thiuk of ordering another in course of a 
year ( r two ! 

Noll. Can't you see that Lady Blanclimayne is always making a butt of you ? 
Your manner of dressing is highly unsuitable. It is worse than that— it is postively 
indecent. 

Jack. Indecent ! May I ask, how I offend her Ladyship's fine modesty? 

Noel. Even the very servants — 

Jack. Oh !— your servants object to my old shooting jacket, do they? What a 
hear -lendirg idea ! 

Noel. How can they be snpp sed to respect a man who wears such clolhes? 

Jack. By Jove ! It's lucky lor me they see nie occasionally in the society of 
such a swell .s their master ! Is that suit your own idea? 

NoiiL. Whose else shou d it be? 

Jack. Waistcoat and all ? Allow me to congratulate you. 

Noel. I've ordered one just like it for you. 

Jack. For me ! No— no — spare me, I implore! 

Noel. I miyht have known what your answer would be. (Going.) Ah, by the 
way! I wish you'd look a^ter that dog of yours a little be.ter ? 

Jack. What dog ? 

Noel. Van, of coarse, you kaow very well ! 

Jack. (Hur!.) You might say our dog, I think ! 

Noel. Lady Blanchmayne found him on an e-isy chair in her boudoir to-day, 
and she had hard work to drive him ofi'it. 

Jack. Poor old Van; he thinks he is still in the old garret at home, where the 
furniture was not too fine to be used. 

Noel. He'd be just as well off in the stables here. 

Jack. I dare say, but he'd be putting on airs, if he mixed much with your ser- 
vants. No, I will find a place for him in my own room. 

Noel. Have it your own way 1 

(En'.er Madge with flowers in her hat.) 

As usual, M^dj^e ! wandering about all alone. I wish vou would learn to be less 
independent. Why could you not have taken a quiet stroll in the garden with MisS 
B'auchmayne, as other young ladies do? What the deucs wiil people think, if they 
see you running wild about the place like that? 

Jack. That her lungs and Lmbs are in an excellent condition. What else could 
they think? 

Madge. (To NoeL) 1 did mean to ask Miss Blauchmavne to go with me, dear, 
but I siw you talking together as I crossed the garden, and- (&hout lo put builon hole 
which s>ie had b^en trying on NoeCs Coat—) 

Noel. (Angrily.) What the deuce hs that got to do with it? 

Madge. Nothing, dear, of course, but— Oh, you have a flower already. I see ! 

Noel, (makes an iiniatitni v.ovcment^ ihe flowers fall io the ground ) Yes. yes; here 
it is close upon the hour for these people to arrive, and > ou are not dressed yet. 

MadG'-. (wiih comical distress). Now, do you hear tha^, Jack ! And 1 in all the 
glory of my ire>hest mnslin go\^n; not dressed indeed, Sir, what more do you want, 
I should like to Imo^' ? 

Jack. (Aside.) Brave, little heart ! 

(He picks up the fallen flower unseen, wipes the dust from it, and puts it in h's breast 
pocket.) 

Well, 1 11 go and have a quiet weed by way of bracing myself for my plunge into 
society. (Ecil. ) 



26 

Noel. Upon my soul Madge, I think you might show a little more regard for 
appearances, 

Madge. (^Sighing.) I am sorry, dear. I did my best, but I am afraid, if I were 
even as smart as Miss Blanclimayne h;rsel , I should still look out of place among 
so many fine people. 

Noel \Vhy do you talk like that? and why do you look so miserable? 

Madge. {Trying lo smVe.) I a;ii not miserable, dear, indeed. 

Noel. Yes, you are. You have beea as mute as a mouse, and kept us all at a 
distance. 

Madge. {Genily.) Perhaps, Noel, it is you who leave vne at a distance. 

Noel Oh, of course, of course it is I who um to blame. My dear Madge, you 
can surely understand the nece.s>>ity of n.y making some friends for myseli. 

Madge. Have we not got trienis already, Noel? Why should you not send for 
our old companions to share in our <;o'jd fortune? I wish voor Wariington and bis 
wife could come to us for awhile. The country air and generous living would set him 
up again, poor fellow ! 

Noel That sort of thing was all very wsll in our struggling days. 

Madge B;twbat has changed, except that you are rich? Is the world less 
beantiful? Is art less nob^e, or less worthy the devotioa of your life ? 

Noel. {Impa'denily ) i his is ali beside the question, we were talking of Lady 
Blanchmayne ai.d her daughter, and I repeat I wish you would show a little more 
anxietj' to return their advances. 

Madge. I feel ill at ease with them, dear ; and besides, I like to keep Jack 
company. He is so lonely hre. * 

Noel, Oh, Jack ! Let Jnck growl in his corner like a great • c;!r if he chooses. 

Madge. You think me shy and awkv/ar^l, Noel, 1 am afraid? 

Noel. A little, I confess. It is not your fault, of course, but — 

Madge. {Sicalowing her (ears.) You did no^ thiDk so once ! 

Noel. Perhaps not, but your condition has changed sines then. Let me see 
that you make some attempt to . dopt yourself to that charge. 

Madge. Ab, dear ! I am afraid I shall find that very harrl. I am shy and awk- 
ward. You to d me so yourself, iunt cow, and I do not thiuk I shall ever be anything 
else. The j)Oor girl who knock d at youf door in London one winter day, with her 
little bundle under her arm, will never make a fine ladv. 

Noel. {Impadeivly.) Yon area fo lish child! Luckily I have common sense 
enough for both of us. Are you going? 

Madge. {Rpresdng her (ears.) Yes ; I — I am not well — I — 

(Exit, meeting Major, who raises his hat daborately.) 

Majoe. I hope it is not I who drove Mis - Henk^tt away ? 

Noel. You cannot think so. Major, for one moment. 

Majoe. I aui afraid I have not the honor of pleasing your cousin, my dear Blake ! 
By the way, there is nothing seriortS in this eugagement between you, I trust? 
Forgive the seeming impertinence, but I am inte tested in you, and 1 think 
it only the dttty of a friend to remind yon that, though you were at perfect 
liberty to marry for love, as people say, whiL- you were a struggling artist, a man in 
;^our present position owes a certain duty to society, and is not justified in throwing 
himself away. 

Noel. "Not if he has given his word. 

Majok. Absurd ! How can the possessor of an estate like Field Eoyal, and an 
income of £30,000 a ye;ir be called upon lo fulfil the promises made by Noel Blake, 
the penniless composer? Why, you have educated, kept, proS^ected your cousin since 
her childhood, as far as I understand. iShe owes you exer} thing. 

Noel. That is true, but— 

Majob. My dear fellow, I understand your feelings thoroughl\\ It is Lot love 
for your cousin which induces you to bind vour-seif to the fulfillment of a thougLtiess 
promise, but a fee ing of faLe delicacy, which is, of cour.-e, highly creditable to you, 
and so forth, but is at the same time, in my opinion, wholly thrown a\^a3^ 

NojiL. {Piqued.) No, no ; there you ; re wrong. I believe Madge to be devotedly 
attached to me, and I feel sure tuut any ruptitre between us would break her heart. 

Majob. If young ladies have hearts. Nonsense, my dear fellow. Tahe my ad- 
vice. Put an end to this entinglement at once. Wake your cousiu a present of a 
little weddng portion with whicn to bless some fortunate fellow later on, and you 
may, if you piay yoar cards well, marry Lady Blanchmayne's daughter before the 
year is out. 

Noel. {Suddenly.) Lady Blanchmayne hns a-ked you to propose this? 

Major. {Calmly.) What it it were so ? which I do not, however, admit — the match 



en- 



21 

is in every respect a desirable ono, and society will npi reoiate your manner of making 
restitution, as it were, of Sir Richara's bequest, t > L'-; legitimate heirs. 

Noel. But Miss Blan'.-hmayne's aii'ecLious ai)i> . r to me to be already engaged. 

Majok. Mere girlish f.dly ! The iitil • thing i> pretty; so much tlie better for 
you— and a tiifle silly, you will add ; tut wljat ot that? lu j.aving jou her hand she 
will raise >ou to her own level, socially and as her husband you will be accepted by 
the best people in the count}'. Think it over, my dear Blake, think it ov^r. 

{Noel goes up moodi'y, where he is presenilij met by Wl hers. En'er Lady B, 1st 
trance, meeting Major.) 

Lady B. Wei!, my dear Major, I see you have retimed to the attack. 

jMajor. Yes, and I believe i have muie some slight impression. Or, rather, I 
have strengthened the impression ahvady produced by jour daughter's charms. 
{Btwi7y^.) I am afraid, however, our hobt suspects a plot. 

Lady B. ^o matter. Our strongest card is yet to be played. You have the 
Dutchess' letter sale ? 

Major. Beady fo' production at the critical moment. Her letter really gives us 
a famous helping band without intending it, thanks to her inordinate pride and vul- 
garity. 

Lady B. Yes, what a letter ! If it were not for Mr. Beamish and his delicate 
inueudoes, I should look upon the a£lair as settled. Can nothing be done to send 
that very meddlesome person back to his paint-pots ? 

{They go Uu converslvg as Noel comes down on the other side wi'Jt Wdhers.) 

Withers. Then you do not desire to have acy changes made in the decorations, 
sir ? 

NoEii, No; why do you ask? 

Withers. Mr. Beami.^h thought that perhaps a few of his pictures in the music- 
room — 

Noel. {Angrih/. ) He seems to think be is in his own house, by Jove ! I must 
not have a single picture on the walls but Sir Eichard's porir.it. You can go, and 
see that I am not annoyed further on trie subject. ( Wi hers hows and exV ) Beamish 
has cost me enough already. By Jove, when I thinlv of it ! £1,000 out ot my money 
for a single picture, and by an unknown man ! It was a lucky day for him when he 
fell in with me. 

{Lady Blanchmayne comes down.) 

Lady B. Yon are just in time, Mr. Blake. The Major and I have been admiring 
your arrangements for this afternoon. Eeally they are worthy of royalty— if it were 
not for one thiug. 

Noel. And that is—? 

Lady B. Must I mention it? It is hardly worth while, 

Noel. But I beg. My house still lacks, you say — V 

Lady B. A gentleman to do the h^^nors. Sir idchard lefc his work uufini^hed, 
my dear Mr. Blake. To a man like you, wealth is not sufficient, and until you have 
added position and social consideration to fortune, you will be bke a column without 
a capitol. 

Noel. And this position you consider would be best attaiued by intermarriage 
with a noble family? {Wdk yneaning.) Maj r Whyte h&s already recommended that 
step with very disinterested ardor. 

Lady B. Aiajor Spott Whyte i- a man of the world, and his opinion is well worlh 
takiug ou all such matters i 

Noel. The major is very kind to interest himself in me. But, really, I do not 
see that my p .sition xieeds strengthening at present. The society you have intro- 
duced me to has aire sdy accei)ted me on my merits. Mv weal;h, my reputation as a 
coajposer, insure the contiijuauce of their ia\Tir. So th it I reiliy go not s e vhy I 
should sacriiice my liberty, when I alr/ady possess all the advantages which a noble 
marriage could besto^v on me. 

L^DY B. There is a great deal of truth in ycur argument. H>ve you seen that 
naughty child ot miue? Ah, there she is with Mr. FfolJiott. What it in to be a 
mother ! {Aside. ) The Duchess' letttr must c!o the rest ; ii that fail — {Exit. ) 

{Major comes down ami they exe -nt together.) 

Noil. I think I have given her Ladyship to undei stand that I am not to be im- 
po ed upon. 

{Re-enter Jack.) 

Jack. The Major and her Ladyship appear to be -in high feather about some- 
thing. {Looking after them.) Noel, perhaps you will be interested in the fact that my 



28 

veneration for your Duchess has prevp.nted me from smoking once to-day ! My 
mouth is as fresh as a rose. I shall have the butterflies lighting on my moustache by 
mistake. 

Noel. Thank He iveu you are getting a littb more fi\ilized ! 

Jack. I say, tbis will be a tremendously swell affair, won't it? Lord! Lord! 
■who would have thongbt, when we were living in that bles-ed old attic at home, that 
in a iew months you would ba settled on your own estate and givirig a party to all the 
nols ot the neif;hboihood? 

NoEii, {Annoyed.) Oh, I don't i now ; more surprising things have happened be- 
fore now. 

Jack. Not mnch, I think; not much. Look here, Noel, shall I have to dance? 

Noi L Dance? No! Wha' th.- deuce put ihat into your h ad? 

Jack. Thank Heaven ! And ytt, what rapture I should have experienced in en- 
circling the fair wa'st of her Ladyship with my arm, or rather with my arms — one 
would not go round. {Bas. dancing round, etc.) 

NoEii. Oblige me by letting Lady Blanchmayne alone. 

Jack. Is her Ladyship an archaugel, or what, that I am to be denied the mild 
privi'fge of Inughing at her? 

Noel. "While she is under my roof, I beg you to consider her one, at any rate. 

Jack. {Gravely ) Vv'hy, you're serious. 

Nor-L. Well, you annoy me bfyoid endurance. You seem to be prejudiced 
against all people of rank. 

Jack. No only against fools and rogues. Bat hush— here co.ucs the fi'st of the 
swells, I believe. {Looking off.) 

Noel. {Eagerly.) Already! {With changed tone.) No, it is on- y Madge 

Jack. Only! Only Madge! bless the child, low pretty fche looks in her 
finery ! {Aside, sighing ) But what is that hope, Jack Beamish? {(JoiS up.) . 

{Madge runs on in e^.cgard ioilef, with houque! etc.) 

Madg'. {Delightedly to Nod.) Ob, you dreadful impostor! Now I know the 
meaning of the long scojdin^ you gave me this morning It made me a little bit un- 
happy at the time — I don t mind confessing that now — ^md I ran away to have a good 
cry m my own room. But there, the first thing I saw was my beauliiul new gown all 
t-pread out on the bed, bouquet and a'l, and Mrs. Bunn, fceamir.g with smiles, ready 
to dress me. Look, Jack ! {Taming roand and holding out skirts.) Did you ever see 
any thing in such perfect taste? 

NoKL. {Eraharrassed ) I don't understand. I — 

Madge. {Gaily.) Oh, no, of course rot But you are not going to deceive me 
again, sir, I can tell you! {Tnderly and lowering her voice ) Dear, dear Noel, you have 
made me so proud and g lad you do nfit kuow ! I cannot tell you all your thoughtful 
kindness means to me just now. {Shyly ) If jou were to ask me to pay you, 1 don't 
think I shouM s.iy no. 

Noel. {Not heeding the suggestion.) But there is some mistake here. Of course I 
should have baen very glad to provide you with a dress if I had known jou had re- 
quired one, but to tell you the truth it did Lot occur to me. 

Madge. {Drawing hack, loounded and sur^ri^td.) Then it is not a present from 
you? 

Noel. I know nothing about it, really. 

Madge. {Dejeciedy.) And I was so happy ! 

{Jack turns i p stage, v)hislling and looking at flowers, e'c, with arefully acted indffer- 
ence.. Madje^a eye f ah on him, and tier face instantly changes. Going straight 
to Jack, she lays htr hanJs in his.) 

Madge. Thank you, Jack ! (Eer voice choked wUh emotion.) Forgive me for not 
underatanding sooner. I ought to have known. 

Jack. (Jiored.) What is that? Tears, Madge! Whjr, all the o'resses in London 
are not worth such thauks as these. It is just as Noel s lys— he had not time to thiuk 
of it, and so — 

Mauge. {Tarn'ni ahrup'lyfo Noel, icilh an effort fo appear caJm.) And the other 
thing the mon y with which Mr-. Bunn has supplied me ince we have been here ? 

Noi L I tell you, my dear, yoa coiild have had whatever j^ou wished if you had 
only mentione i it. Of course, I took it for granted you would let me Unow. 

Madg:\ I understand, on'y Jack did ( o. wait to be Hsked. At h' me, cousin, 
when I d d my share cf the daily work, and e i7-ned my little share of the money, I 
hsd no shame in telling 3'ou wuen I stood in need of a new gown, or of a pair of 
gloves. But here it is different, and I am sorry you do not feel so yourself — I — 



29 

( Tiirm np to hid4 her agUntinn ns Baby enters carryirifj NoeVs bouquet and fol'owed by 
Bcrt'e. Jiek fjoe-< afier Madge, consoling her and bringing her down, when they 
are m t hy Berlie. Noel advances to meet Baby.) 

MoEL. You do my poor flowers too much honor. Miss Blanchmayne. 

Baby. Oh, dear, no ! If they were poor flowers I sho-ild not i e carryin'j: them 
at all, as you know very well ; don't you, Mr. Blake ? (Jedously waichmg Berlie.) 

JiEKiiE {Bowing io Madge.) Itis not Blake's wealth that men will envy him to- 
day, Miss Hesiiett. 

Madgk, {Simply as s'e se s Noe'. wvh Bihy.) You mean they will admire Miss 
BlarichaiayneV Sha dots look very cbarmiug. 

Baby. {SpUffuUy.) Oh, no, indeed ! near Miss Heskett, it is not easy for any one 
to appear cimrming, is it, Mr. FfoilioLt? 

Jack. Thai's very triie, very true, iudeed. Still you don't look so badly your- 
seir, consLderin-f. 

Noel. {AvgrUy aside io him.) Beamish, will you hoJd your stupid toague. 

Madge ( IVUhan attempt at cheerfahte.ss.) And so, Jack, this is our first appear- 
ance in society. 

Jack. It is. I am told the fashionable world is very much excited over my 
debw ! 

Baby. Indeed, if you th-nk the Duchesj*, or anybody, will trouble their heads 
about jou, Mr Beamish, you are greatly mistaken ; you haven't got the money, has 
he, Mr. Blake ? 

Jack. I did imagine so. Ah, Miss Bl mchmayne, you have shattered one of the 
few illusions left me by a heartless aijd uuappreciutive world ! 

Noel. ( Lotklng at w dch. ) Four o clock and no one here yet. ( Walks about un- 
easily. ) 

Jack. {Smothering a yawn.) Going into the world is tremendously exciting work, 
I must say. 

{Servant enters with salver of ices, e'c, and'approaches Noel, who waves him angrily 
awfiy.) 

NoL-L. No, no ! 

Jack. {To serv mistaking glass from tray ; drinks.) Who made this claret cup? 
Skrvakt. I don't, know, sir. 
Jack, i say, Noi-1, the claret cup is jolly weak. 
Noel. Th - devii take the claret cup. 

Jack. {Putting it down.) With all my heart ! {Exit servant.) 

Baby, it's awluliy dull here, i-n't ir, Mr. FfoUiott? Suppose we all take a turn 
the lawn ? 

Madge. {Rising.) If you wish. 
Bekt.e. Am I permi ted to accompany you ? 

( T/ie girls exeunt, followed by FfoUicti ) 

Noel. {Looking at waich, again nervously. ) A quarter past and no one yet. It's 
very st;ange. 

Jack Do you know that it looks to me very much as if they didn't intend to 
come at ali. 

JSoEL. Absurd ! They could not all fail me. Bes'des. they would have sent ex- 
cuse-'. I must see Lady Blancbmayne, and— (Jacfc takes out cigar case.) Are you 
going to -moke? 

Jack. Not here ; don't ba afraid ! {Eut.) 

Noel. {Excitedly.) Not a soul ! What on earth can be dtt. lining them? tr^ome- 
thi; g must have occurred surely, 1 have not seen a paper to-day, but — 

{Enter Major, hurriedly, v:ith open letter.) 

Major. Bid news, my dear Blake, I regret to say — 

Noel. What is it! 

Major. Hf^re is a letter which Lady Blanchmayne has just received, but I really 
don t know whether — 

Noel. Give it to me ! I am preparpd for the worst. {Reads) " My dear Lady 
Blanchmayne: Does your mnshroon milUouaire intend to insult his betters, by in- 
viting them to lo )k at his ill -go ten splendor? " 

Major. Fnough, enough, my dear Blake » 

Noel. {Reads.) "Does this, Mr. B ake imagine, because I consented, at your 



30 

request, to receive him civily in my own house, that henceforth we are on terms of 
equality ? " 

Major. There, thee, my dear, Blake ! Let me beg of you — 

Noel, (Bads.) "Advibe him from me, to cultivate a littJe modesty. When 
a man bas had ihe misfortune to compose a Syn phony which has rost a noble family 
£30,000 a year, people \^ill always con&ider bis talent, whatever it may be, infiuite^y 
below the rate of his salary"— {G vei le'ier hack', a pause suddni'y ) liajor Whyte ! I 
have decided. I authorize you to propose for Miss BJancbmayne in my name ! But 
on one condition, that the eDp:agement is kept secret for the present. 

Major. By all means ! Bur, what's the use of delny.ng? You can see for yourself 
that Ffolliott is swe^t on the girl. 

Noel. {ScomfnHy ) FfulJiott, a beggarly cleik in an office ! I don't think I have 
much o fear in that quarter. 

Major. Very good; n.eanwhi]e you can contrive to rid yourself of a cprtain 
entanglement we have spoken of, and we will lake a run on the continent. I have the 
ent'Ce of every continental court; I undertake to arrange the whole bu-iness tor you 
and for my troable,(i?i an ary manner.) you shall make me, it you like, a little pecuni- 
ary acknowledgement on your wedding day. 

Noel, Agreed, name your o n terms ! 

Major. 'I'o-day, society has refused to attend the entertainment given by Noel 
Blake, in a few months it shall be begging for invitations from Lady Blancbmayne's 
son-in-law ! 

{Exit.) 

Noel. Oh, the delight of repayi g the insolence of these people a hundred fuld ! 
Let me, but once, get my foot upon thtir necks, and they shall feel what it is to be 
humiliated. 

{Enter Jack.) 

Oh, there you are ! There will be no oue here to-day, so you can smoke to your 
heart's content. 

Jack. But — is anything wrong ? How wild you look, lad ! 

Noel. No, no; why do you ask? 
now to explain. 

{Hushes off .) 

Jack. {Dolefully.) Deuce take the money ! Kich people have alvv> ys something 
else to think of "besiaes being happy ! Oh, lor an hour of the old free and eisy iife ! 
Oh, for my ragged old blouse t^meilmg of tobacco, Bnd my clippers and pipe, aud glass ! 
Oh for a good laugh at Horiigold's chaff, or ihe friendly soand of Smyihe's abomin- 
able strains ! Oh, for — {3Iv.sic.) 

{^myhe is heard singing cuis'de.) 

Halloa ! What do I hear? Surely, no one but Sebastian him elf was ever guilty 
of such a mubical or unmusical phrase as that. Egad, I believe my wish is going to 
be realized as soon as uttered. 

{Goes up eagearly. Smyth" enters and rushes in'o his arms exiravaganHy with a pro- 
lovg! d howl (f delight.) {Mu^ic Stops.) 

Smtthe. My friend ! my chief! my hero ! Do we then meet again at last? 
Jack. You may w( 11 say "at last," why the deuce have you never answered my 
letters, or run down to see me? But no mitter, we've goc you now, and we shall not 

Smythe. Too generous being ! This heart is absolutely tropical ! Obhge me 
by leading me ;o the nearest lountain, and leaving me in i;. {Sits down, but jumps 
ur> to tmhrace his friend once 111 ore.) , , . ,,,.-, 

Jack. We Haven't any fountains handy just now, but what do you say to a nice 
cool champagne cup uuder'the t: ees ? {Goes up rushiug about eagerly ) Here Withers ! 
James ! Somebody 1 

{Enter servant, to whom le g'ves orders and servant exits.) 

{J'xck comes down again. SmyiJie rises and salutes him with a series of mock respect- 
ful hows. ) 

Smythe. Pardon me, Mr. Beamish ! If I had known that you were in a posi- 
tion to address a livery like that in such familiar terms, I would have treated you 



31 

witla the respect sucii a position merits. Allow me to repair my ( rror without delay 
and — {Jack pushes him back into seat affedionate'y ) 

Jack Sit down, you joliy old ass, a>-id tell me all the news! Lord! Lord! 
How glad our little Marlge will be to f-ee your ugly old phiz again I And wait until 
you see her, Sebantiau ! She's prettier and sweeter than ever : 

S.MYTHE Eyjove! and Van? How does the old las^cal like his new quarters, 
eh? Does he get you into as much trouble as of old ? Egad, its throwing tempta- 
tion in his way to let him 1 jose among such calves as those— isn't it ? {Indicating ser- 
vant who is entering icth tray.) 

Jack. Ay, poor old boy ! But the Flunkeys take care to give him, and his mas- 
ter a wide berth! {To servant) What's this? Champague, Ices— that's all very well. 
But look shaip novv, and bring us something a little nore substantial, doyou hear? 
{Business during this for Smyhe, of ■■suppressed adm'rtU'.u of the foo'man's splendour.) 

Jack Some raised pie,' and lobs', er s dad, and anything you like so long as you 
don't kep us waiting half an hour ! 

{Servant exits io return during following dialogue with luncheon tray which he sets on 
small table front.) 

Smythe. By Jupiter I you are in clover here, and no mistake ! and Noel ! you 
don't speak of him, I suppose he is as happy as the day is long — working away 
at the opera which is to excel even the famous Symphony itself ? Whvt a career 
that fellow has before h m, thanks to the vitiated taste of a brainless public, which — 

Jack. {Hastily filling Smy the' s glass.) Etcetra ! Etcetra Try the champagne, 
o^d man ! And how are all the boys, eh? Horngold and Teddy, and Warrington? 
By Jove ! How I lon-s; to see them all again ! 

Smtthe. Ah! thanks to you Jack, Warrington is on his legs again. He 
charged me with all borts oi' graceful messages, and — 

Jack. {Interrupiing.) Yea, yes, all right ! a little of the p"e — {lielping him ) Of 
course the poor fel.ow's iilarss has left him awfaixy hard up, bu. you can tell him 
from me no & to worry about the needtul until he is thoroughly able for work again. 
Noel has a jolly idea in his bead about him, and so well drink to his better fortune. 
{They drink.) And, you know, Sebastian, il there is anything in the world I can do 
for you — 

Smithe. You are a trump. Jack Beamish, and I have not waited till to-day to 
find it out. But at present, thank my lucky stars, the blind Goddess smiles upon the 
humble, votary at the shrine of Harixtony. In ether words, I have secured the six 
flaxen-haired daughters of a butcher in Toltc^nham Court Eoad as pupils, and — 
{Taking p)pe from pocket, and ahoul Io light it, when Maelge enters at back.) I saj'', Jack, 
there's a indy coming towards us in full sail, and I was nearly caught in the act of 
lighting up {Tnes ,o lade pipe and assumes an air of elegant indfftrence. Madge see- 
ing him — ) 

Madge. ( Utters a litlllt cry of delight.) Is it possible ? 

Smythe. Why, y aU that is sacred, it is Madge — I mean, Mi-iS Heskett ! 

Madgf. {Running lo him wth outstrttcUed hands,) No^ Madge— little Madge — you 
dear old ISebastian. who has lit that familiar black pipe for y(m many and many a 
time in Great Charlotte Street. Let me do it for you now, so that you may see 1 have 
n.it forgotten the way, {Llglding U lovh match.) Oh, Jack, isn't it like old times to see 
him agaia ? I declare that horiible old meerschaum smells s'.'eeier than all my lady's 
perfumes put together ! ^Vhen did you come, iJr, Smythe? Of course you are going 
to stay with us for some time? Where is your luggage? It must be sent for at 
once ! 

Jack, To be sure . 1 11 call Withers, and Sebastian shall give him his instruc- 
tions in music. 

Smythe. {In arms at once.) And why not ? As if music were not sufficiently ex- 
pressive to — 

Jack. {Laughing ) I see the old hobby-horse is a^ rampant as ever! I wonder 
he has not kicked you off long ago ! {Enter Withers.) However, here is Withers, in 
the Very ni.-k of time Try it on. 

Smythe. {Gravely addressing Witlicrs.) My friend, will you be good enough to — 
{Sings, ending with rniiation of hen and chickens.) 

VVith£KS. {Shaking his head dubiously .) 1 beg your pardon, sir! 

Jack. {Laughing.) He doetn't see it Once ///ore, Sebastian. 

Smythe. {Siill bandly.) I see you did not catch the notts. I repeat, will you be 
good enough to — {Sings as before.) 

Withers. {Struck wth a bricjht idea.) Oh, I see, sir. To^be sure— you would like 
a little c Id roast Chicken? Certainly, sir. {Going.) 

Jack. {Laughing .) Bravo, Smythe! 



32 

Smythe. (Resignedly.) Oh, these rustic numskulls ? (To Withers.) I-wasrrerely 
requesting you in tDe plainest of terms to send for my portmanteau to the Hen and 
Chickens. 

Withers. (Respecifally ) I will do so, sir. If you had only said so at fir?t, I 
should hive understood yoa immediately. (G dm.) 

Smythe. (Far-ous.) The Goth ! The idiot ! Let me get at him! Let me chop 
him into demi-semi-quavers ! 

(He rushes at Withers and plumps into the arms of Lady B, who enters, foV owed by Noel, 
M'jor, Berie and Baby. Srnytlie stommivs out an aoology, and comes down icuh a 
rush to Jick and Madge, mopping his forehead and Ihoroughy nonp ussed. Laay B. 
sourly regarding him through tyeijlass .) 

Lady B. Another of Mr. Beamish's graceful jests. I feel sure. It is not enough 
that ladies are to be annoyed and terrified by Lis very obj' ctioisable dog, but now — 
Eeally, Mr. Blake, I begin to fear that we are Ire-passing too Lng on your kiodues^'. 
Your friends are evidently determined to make our Linger stuy at Field Koyal impos- 
siole. 

Noel. (With suppressed rage.) Allow me to apologize in his name, Lady Blanch- 
mayne. I wJl ui.dertake to see that n-ither the dog nor any inmate of my house 
shall offer you any further annoyance ait;r to-day. 

Majob. SpoJie-i like a gent eman. 

Noel. (Advancing, ihee's Withers ) Who is this person ? 

Withers. A friend of Mr. Beamish, sir. 1 am going to send to the village for 
his luggage 

Noel. You will take that order from me, and from no one else. You may go. 
(ExU Withers.) Mr. ou y he, I think? I am very sorry, but the house is so full at 
present that I cannot ask for the pleasure of your company. I shall be happy to send 
you back to the station in one of my carriages. You will be ia time for the six o'clock 
train to town. 

Jack. Noel, are you mad ? 

Madge. (^Indignantly.) Mr. Smythe is here as Jack's guest. He brings us news 
of our old friends— trie Lids wao were good to you in our days of poverty. 

^JoEL. When Bt!ami>h has a honse of his own to nsk his friends to, I shall not 
question his choice of guest--. I claim the tame privilege in mine. Lady Blanch- 
mayne, willyou allow me ? {Offers his arm. They go up. Major lakes snuff and sur- 
vey i Smythe with languid curiosdy, as lie follows them. They converse at back. Then 
Lady B. exits with Major, and Noel conus down ) 

Bertie . ( Curlina moustache ) Your little millionaire is the most thorough-faced 
cad breathing, Miss Blanchm-iyi:e, do you know? 

Baby. Is he, really? Weil, I thought so myse'f, and tou ought to be a judge of 
cad-% oughta't you, Mr. Ffclliott ? i They fodow Lady B. off.) 

Smythe. (Drawing a long breath.) Somebody pinch me . The woria is crumb- 
ling beneatii my feet. Was it to me, Sebastian Smythe, those words wtre ad- 
dressed ? 

Jack. F: .rget them, Sebastian, for^^et them, and the man who utetred them. 
He is not worthy of your angtr. Go wdth Madge. I will not insult you by asking 
you to re tain one moment longer wiihia his gates Go, and leave me with this 
man. 

Madge. Com°, Mr. Smythe; Jack is right — come ! (They go off.) 

Jack. (To Ni.el. ' I want a few words with you. 

Noel. Iheu look sharp, will you ': 

Jack. Smythe brought me a message from Warrenton. 

Noel. Indee 1 ? 

Jack. He hasn't a sixpence in the world ! 

Noel. Indeed? 

Jack So tuis will be a favorable moment for putt'ng your intention on his be- 
half into execution. 

Noel. My intentions? 

J.\cK. Yes. Ain't you going to send him £100 ^ 

Noel. 1? This is the first I have heard of it. 

Jack. Then you must have a very short memory. Have you forgotten what you 
said to me that day ia the studio at home? If ever I am rich I will have my Sym- 
phony performed in a theater of my own? 

Noel. Damn the Symphony ! 

Jack, And I will send £100 to poor Wariington and his hungry babies. 

Noel. (Sneering.) Only £100 ? Are you sure it was not £1,000 ? 

Jack. (Gravely.) I only remember the £100. 



83 

Noel. What with the legacies I have had to pay away, and one thing and an- 
other, I am a poorer man than yesterday. At any rate, I have not got £100 to fling 
out of the window. 

J vcK Th n Warrington must starve ? 

Noel. Stafi and no assume ! Nobody does starve ! If they have any talent, they 
can worlc and grow rich. 

Jack. As you diJ? (Midge enters, unperc?ived.) Well, let us say no more about 
it. I will send the sam to Warriagtou out of my legacy. All Sir Kichard's money 
has not talleu iutD bar! hands. But I understand. I can read your thoughts plainly 
enough. You wint to break with Warrington as you have broken with the rest of our 
old chums— with Smyrha, who sold the coat off his back, when you were ill. to get 
you wine. You caanot associ.ite any longer with a man whose father was a trades- 
mnn, like your own ! 

Noel, ( HjUy. ) Do you wish to humiliate me by recalling the fact ? 

Jack. No; I m^'rely wish to remind you of ir. Hvt our pretty little Mad^e, the 
girl we have watched ovcr so many years, and w^ho made the joy of our home- what 
lady in the land cjuld love yoa more, or rule y:>nr house and bear your name with 
better grace V Noel, be rue to her ! That is all I ask. Be irae to M idge, and I will 
go back to the life I never shoald have left and mar your prosperity no louger. 

Noel. I am neither of the a^e, nor in the humor, to stand this perpetual con- 
trol of my actio n.=?. 

Jack. Do you thiuk that because you have grown wealthy, you can expect to 
escape the judgment of your frieni is ? 

Noel. If what goes on here does not please you, you have the remedy in your 
own hands! (Exit abrupUij) 

Jack, (passing his hand in a bewildered fashion across his eyes.) 1 have the remedy 
in my own hands ! 

{Madge comes down pale and in tears.) 

Madge ! my poor girl ! you were there— and you heard ? 

M^D iE. All, all— Ah. miserable girl that I am ! 

Jack. Don't cry, Madge, don't cry, dear! 

Madgs. Oh, Jack ! It my tears could wash out his black ingratitude ! Cold, 
cruel as he has grown, I did not think that he would dare to speak such words to you ; 
to you, who have made him \^hat he is. 

Jack. No, no, dear ! you are mistaken. It was my fault principally, believe ma 
it was. 

Madge. Coward, that I am ! Why have I r mained here so long ! Oh, take 
me away, Jar-k ! Take ma away ! Let me go b ick to the dear old home together ! 

Jack. Why, you silly little woman, what would N03I say to that? You know 
very well he loves yoa, and for the sake of your own happiness. 

MvDGE. My happiness ! Has it not been slippin-jr lro)n me day by day, and hour 
by hour, since the m >ment we first came to this house? No, Jack, you fed as I do, 
that my poor iitile dream is over; and th it Noel will soon learn to be ashamed of 
me, as he is ali eady ashamed of his art and of his old friends. 

Jack. Ashamed of y >u ! If I believed th it to be possible ! But no, Madge, you 
wroni^ your lover, for he is your lover dear, and I will yetbring him back — I mectn, 
not that he has ever left you of course, hut—{adde, with a groan,) Oh, what a clumsy 
brute I am ! 

Madge. Don't Jack — don't speak to me like that, I cannot bear it. 

(Suddenly lakes his hands and covers ihem with kisses. Then breaks away and 
rum of ) 

Jack. (Moved.) I felt her tears upon my hands. Poor child; they made me start 
as if I bad been stung. How she loves him ! With a love that miserable fellow flings 
away like a withered flower. A love that would make the best and highest joy of other 
lives. Good God ! To ses happiness so near yon, holding out her bountiful hands 
and smiling in your face, and not to dare to take her to your heart. (Jsoes up.) 

(Enter Major and Noel continuing convei'saiion.) 

Major. N > time like the present. You surely must acknowledge the extreme 
desirability of the connection? 

Noel. Undoubtedly, and yet— 

Major. Hush ! here comes Lady Blanchmayn© with her charming daughter I 



54 

(Enter Lady B and Bahy) 

Talk of the angels, my dear Miss Blanchmayne, Mr. Blake was just loud in your 
prai'ieB. 

Jack, (at back.) Noel, loud in her praises, whit does this mean? 

Lady B. And what has he been saying of my little girl, Major, if it is fair to 
ask? 

Noel, (wiih an effort.) The meref-t common places ; that your daughter is as 
amiable as she is beautiful, and that her husband will be the happiest of men. 

Baby. Indeed, you are quite misiak'^n. Me. Blake. If I dou'r many the man of 
my choice, I shall ue ptrlectly horrid, and lead him a dreadful life, the way Mamma did 
poor Papa. Shan 1 1, Mamma V 

Lady B. -My dear ! 

(A s^ot is heard and a ficrenm^ Madge runs on pale and terrified and rushes to Jack. 
Sewant follows with a Gun ) 

Madge. Ob, Jack, Jack ! (covers her face ia her hands.) 
Jack What is it? — who has dared to frighten you? 
Madge. Van— poor Van ! (Sob'Ang violently.) Oh, why did they do it? 
Jack. What of Van? 

Madge. He is dead. Jack— thej have killed him ! Didn't you hear the shot ? 
^shuddering.) 

(Jac'c rushing at Servant and seizing him.) 

Jack. Is this true ? 

Servant. My master's orders , sir ! 

Jack, {recoiling, releases man, and turns to Noel pale ar,d stern.) Does this fellow 
Bpeak tbe tiuih ? Was it by your orders ? 

Noel. By my orders ! I don't know what you mean ? 

Major. (Talcing swff.) You know perfectly well my dear, Noel! Do not be 
afraid to aeknowled-je what you have done in your own house. You gave your people 
instructions to rjd us of that o lious beapt, ana you did perfectly right. 

Jack, (s iU les ranihg him-ie^.) Is that true ? 

Noel. Well, yes ; it is. What of it? 

(Jdtk makes a rush towards hlm^ hut is checked hy Madge.) 

Madge. Oh, Noel ! Noel ! 

Jack. (Stunned hy the blow.) He has killed the dog !— killed old Van !— shot him 
through his faith ul heart, that was as tender y devoted to a wortbl-rss master as my 
own. Yuu were good for nothing but to love him, and you iroubled his n^agnificence 
with your shabby preseuce as I do — as 1 do, too ! 

Malge. Come away, Jack ; come away with me. They will only sneer at you ! 

Majok. Oh, not at aU ! We can fully understand this devotion to a dog, who 
gave ris - to snch agreefiLle expectations ! 

Jack. It is not only for the dog I grieve. It is not he alone who is dead. The 
friend>hip which once tilled mv hie has been murdrrtdwith the same fonl blow! 
{To Noel, wit'), supreme contempt.) The veil is ttrn away at last from before my 
eyes, and I can see down to the boitum of your shallow soul ! Egotist ! Ingra'e ! 
Coward ! 

Noel. Beamish. (Music till end of Ac'.) 

Jack. (Fierce'y. ) Siltnce I I have led you, fed you with my bread, my hopes, 
my life. I have made of my talent a ladder for your genius to climb, Jf you had 
a^ked my heart's bloo 1 of me I should n t have denied you. And how have you re- 
ward d me? God Jorgive you, Noel Blake, you have redueed me to the infinite 
b S--ne-s of flingiyg my own benefits in your teeth ! You have taken my talents ; you 
have betn ihe end and consolaiioa of alT my sactifice?. I had nothing left in the 
wide wor^d but my dog, and now 3^011 have e\en taken him ! You shot the poor old 
dog that j't.u might rid yi rselr ot his master. Well, you have gaiued j'our point ! 
But before I go you shall know the ^^hole truth once for al ! I love M«dge I yes, I 
love her ; s you are iucapabJe of loving; anything outside your miserable self! and yet 
I have made no attempt to win her— the priceless p;-arl by which you set so little 
store— but have rehigned her to yon, as I resigned ail other things a man could most 
des re. Be satibfied ! From this day forth I will trouble you no more ! 

(Rushes off. Malge overcome w'ih the declaration rf Jack's love, falls half fainting 
into ihi arms of Mrs. Bunn, uho has lun on at sound of gun.) 
Picture.— CUBTAIN. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE : The Studio; m ihe same stale as when qui'tel by the occupanfs at end of Act 1st ; 
Empiy Grale, open Piano, U ter of Music, papers, e c, onfl or. (Music.) Eaier Jack, 
"unlo king door and clonv^g it behind him; he piases in midue </ stage and looks 
around; goes uf) to w ndow a.td ihrows it wide <.],en; comes down and -sits at tible, xcith 
atte ))pt at cheerfulness ; then suddenly breaking down, buries his J ace on his folded 
arms ; after a pause he recovers hirnsef. 

Jack. So, here I am. at home again ! dBack in the old scones to begin the old 
life once more. The od life ; but how changed. By the hearth which friendship, 
hope and love shared with me a few months back. I must henceforth sit alone ! 
(Dejectediy, and rising to <jo and sl'ind befne his picture whirh slV.l hajigs on '/le wail. ) My 
picture ! How often I have louoed for ihe lime when it should be fiuished. iShnll I 
ever have the courage to go on with it? Cm i ever hope to renew the colors with 
with wuich it was begun r The colors blended in saeh magic 'ints by \ outh and eager 
longing and ambition 1 {Si'jh ng and lurnhi / aw iii.) As well think to bring buck my 
own careless self of a little whi.e iigo ! ( Takes some trifle or lace or work from M.dge's 
basket a d holds it to his i'ps, passin-j his hand ocer his eyes with a kind of sob. ) There's 
where she used to sit, so busy and so bright, where I bball nevi r t-ee her sit a^'aio. 
No, never apain shall I turn trom my easel to watch the litt e figure in its straight 
gray go^vn, flittiug about the room, the kindly spirit ( f our bachelor fireside. Poor 
child! Po r love ! {^Turns away and pauses at the piano whicJi is i pen. lie . -lands with 
his hands thrust in his -pockets aud surveys it with a melan holy smile.) Ay ! he has taken 
everything— the mr.sic from the bilent instrument — the very soul of my libtless body, 
and he values them as much as one of these poor broken strings. Well the past is 
dead and buried! And here, upon the timeless notes her hand has touched, I lay my 
anger and revenge beside the past, and say I can forgive him for her sake. {Closes 
lid cf piano scftiy and stands lost in thought ) 

(Enttr Teddy Sproit.) 

Teddy. What, Jack, back again ! {Shaking him warmly by the hand.) I thought 
I heard somebody tramping about over my head, and i ran up to see if by any chaice 
shaking hands again) — Lord, how jolly it is to have you back ! And — and Miss Hes- 
kett — is she with you? 

Jack. No, Teddy, no 1 I am by myself ! 

Tebby {d'sappoinied.) Oh, going into the country again? 

Jack. No, no ! It's too long and too wretched a story to tell you just now, but 
I have left Field Royal forever ! 

Teddy {bewildered}. Forever ? 

Jack. Haven't you seen Smythe? Hasn't he got back yet? Didn't he tell you? 

Teddy. Smythe ! No ! I say. this room look* jolly uncomfortable. Come do'wn 
into mine and have some beer, and then you can tell me, if you like, what has 
happened ! 

Jack. I will; and then you can go round to Warrington's with me. I must sea 
him to-night. (Looking round room.) How changed ! 

( They exeunt — Music. ) 

(A pause. Enter Midge in her dress of act 1st, followed by Mrs. Bunn, who carries a 
basket jand a large umbrella, etc. ) 

Madge, {in a loud whisper.) Come in Mrs. Bunn, there's no one here ! 

{Mrs. Bunn enters looking about her with great curiosity, and elevating her hands in ■ 
comfortable sur prist.) 

Mbb. B. Dear! dear! dear! Miss Madge I What a queer little place to be 
■ure t 



38 

Madge, (clasping her hands.) But how glad I am to be back in it once more ! 
Mrs. Bunn, I have been very bappy here, though we were so poor ! 

Mrs. B. Indeed my dear, and money doesn't always biirg contentment as I 
well know ! But Miss Madge, you can't stop here, I'm afraid we shall have to find 
rooms for ourselves at once, my dear ! 

Madge Yes, I know ! I intend to ask Mrs Warr'ngton to let us stay with her 
for the presmt. I could mind her little children, for she isn't very strong; but first 
I must see Jack, he is so uohappy, everyone has been so cruel to him. 

Mbs B. indeed then, and that is what Mr. Beamish does not deserve ! 

Madge. And least of all from me, who should have known how to read that 
no' lest, tenderest of hearts ! But I was as blind as all ihe rest. {IVi'.h a sudden 
recolecUon.) You do not think I am too bold, dear old Bunn? You do not think 
Jack could misunderstand my presence here ? 

Mrs. B. No, my dear ; no ! If he is in trouble where else should you be but 
here? 

Madge. (Jcniful-y.) Y''es, yf s, that is what I feel, and when I have explained 
why I came, we cun go to Mrs Wa.rington's at once, j-o that he could not th nk, he 
ought not to buppo e. (Suddenly clasping her hnids and lookbig about her.) The room 
is dreadfuily unti "y, Mrs. Bunn, and that wi 1 never do ; suppose we put it in order? 
See, there is bis picture. That shall be the very tirst that we touch. Quick, Bunn, 
qnick, help me to lift it down. (Bu^t.) Now, let us put it on easel, so! (She runs 
to ihe cupboard for cloth, and dusts it gent'y.) See how the colors glow, now that the 
dust is gone ! And it is months and months since he laid a biush on it — months of 
patient Eelt-denial and devo'ion, of Joneliness and misjudged suffering. Forgive me, 
Jack, forgive me ! I was blind. I d;d not know. (FurgeHnq Jirs. Bunn' s presence 
she leans agnins' picture, touching it iQi:h her lips, as she puis her arms across it.) 

Mes. B No, don't you fret, my dear : That is a 1 over now, and Mr. Beamish 
will be as happy end as famons one of thee days as he deserves to be. 

Madge. (Starting up.) Yes, pray heaven! we will not misunderstand him any 
more. (Bustling about gtntly.) There, there is his beloved old Blouse ! (Laying it on 
hack of chair, ne.tr easel^ and putting pain'ing materials at hand, at a lUile distance, and 
admiring (ffect.) 

(Clock strikes 6.) 

Six o'clock already ! and I have not begun to get the supper ready. Oh, dear 1 Jack 
cant live on the thought of his pictuie, beautiful as it is ; can he? Mrt^. Bunn. Let 
VLB lighc the fire. It is not a very cold evening, but it will be such a welcome to him 
when he comes home. Jack always says that a fire in a room is like a river in a land- 
scape. ( Tney bring wood, e c, and a fire is laid and lit as she speaks.) And I think a 
kettle adds considerably to the effect at times! (Fdis kettle and puts it on fire.) I 
wond r if Lady Blanchmayne ever saw a kettle in her life. I am afraid her ladyship 
wc uld faint if she saw me put it on the fire with my own hands. There ; now for the 
table-cloth and your basket of good things! (Thy spread iabU during dialogue.) 
There! a roast fowl, tongue, country butter, home-made bread, tea, sugar, etc. He 
will not expect such a banquet, will he? cor such agretable society! And now, 
come along, dear Bunn, and I will show you the little bedroom where 1 used to sleep, 
and you shall put on that splendid cap, which I know you have brought with ycu, 
and be ready to pour out tea as soon as Jack comes home ! 

Mr.s. B. Dear ! dear ! Miss Madge ! you will have your own way, I know ! 
And, indeed, I shall feel more like myse.f when I j^eton my cap. (Exit.) 

Malge. {Her feverish gaiety forsaking her and leaving her pale and nervous.) He 
cannot be much longer ! Oh, how my heart does beat ! (Sitting doun at fire with 
work b isket. ' The light shines redly on htr.) I will not light the lamp just yet. It vill 
be ea^ier to speuk to him in the uusk. But what am I to say ? Now that I am here 
my courage iails me. I am afraid. I have ben foolish — rash. Better that Jack 
should never know what I came here to tell him than that 1 shoiild sink one hair's 
breadth fnm t^e sacred place I hold now in hi.s thoughts. {Music.) . Better I should 
go aw.iy, and I e forgotten ! Hark! (Lidening nervously. Goes tj door and listens.) 
There he is— that is his step ! And, oh 1 how dull, and slow, and spirith ss it sounds. 
(Ooes back to her work, with her back to the door.) 

(Jack enters slowly, flinging his hat wearily aside. Goes to tab'e and strikes a match io 
light lamp. As it giaduady brighttns he notices the supper that has been laid and 
appears puzzled. Looks around place dubiously ) 

Jack. I must have mistaken the floor in the daik. (Sees Madge's figure at ih9 
firt,) I beg your pardon, really ! I didn't mean to intrude I 



37 

(Lamp on full He sees her face as she turns around.) 

TvTadge ! (Rush'ng to her and looking in her face, to make sure that it is really she.) Madge 
here ! Why, child, what are you doing in this place? (Music mops ) 

Madge. {Hanging her head and smiling.) I— I am mending the stockinga, 
Jack ; they want it very badly. 

Jack. " You have come back. It is really you ! In your pretty gray gown of the 
old days, too ! You little witch ! 1 see you have been waving your wand about the 
room already. 

Madge. Only a broomstick, Jack. That is the proper thing for a witch, you 
know ! 

Jack. You darling child ! that blessed little broom has swept the cobwebs out 
of my poor brain already, as well as the dust from the floor. Oh, Madge ! are you 
sure I am uot dreaming, and have we really been away all this time, all this long 
miserable time ? 

Madge. {Demurely.) You must have been somewhere sir, to learn such extrava- 
gant habits. {Bringing Blouse from chair by Easel) Are you going to wear that coat 
in the house — a beautilul new coat that you ha\e only had for 10 years? 

Jack. {With returning joy.) Yes, it is she — her very little self— come back to 
keep everything in order. {Oianges coal for blouse w th her assistance.) There, then, 
madame, I hope you are satibfied noic, and prepared to tell me the meaning of that 
dtlightiul little apparition by my hearth? 

Madge. {Gelling flurried.) Of course, when I have made the tea, and — 

Jack. The kettle is not boiling yet. Where have you been, Miss Heskett, that 
you have grown so aristocratic, and forgotten the rudiments of an art .n which you 
used at one time to excel? 

Madge. {With emotion.) Where I should never have dreimt of going, Jack! 
Where no one wants me any longer ; where I will never, never go again ! 

Jack. Madge ! 

Madge. Yes, I will speak now, before I go away, and tell you all. Jack, every- 
thing is at an end between Noel Blake and me ! 

Jack. No, do ! 

Madge. I have come to London to try and get a situation. I could teach little 
children, perhaps, or give mnsic lessons, and sometimes I could see you all — Mrs. 
Warrington and Sebastian and Teddy, and — {Getting more and more embarrassed ) 

Jack. {Wi'h biittr indigri alien.) Did that man consent, then, to your coming 
here — alone on such business ? Had he the heart to let you go ? 

Madge. Oh, husk ! He did not know of it ! I could not see him after — after 
poor old Van's death and your going away. Br.t nothing he could have said — if ever 
he had cared to say such words, would have kept me in that house another day. 
There is no room iu it lor me any longer ! 

Jack. Good God ! That it should come to this ! 

Madge, {smiling tenderly.) It is no such very hard fate, after all ! I have good 
friends still, and my big brother to look after me a little now snd then. Many a 
poor girl has to go out into the world, and earn her bread, without any such con- 
solation and support. 

Jack, Poor child ! How will your tender little hands serve for that fctruggle 
with the cruel thing you call the world ? Your little heart will break againbt its hard 
indifference and scorn ? Madge — why should you talk of earning your own bread ? 

Madge, {trying to laugh.) Because Bakers have a predjudice in iavor of being 
paid for their loaves, I sup{.ose, I — 

Jack, {earnestly). No— don't jest now with me, dear ? But think of what I am 
going to say ! Madge, you can trust me — can't you ? 

Madge . Trust you ! 

Jack, {with increaswg agitation.) Then why may it not be my pride and joy to 
make a home for you, my dear? A home which would be humble enough for awhile, 
but which would be jour own at least, and sheltered from everything that could harm 
or hurt you ! 

Madge. Jack ? 

Jack. I know that I am selfish to talk like this — so scon. But the thought of 
my little girl in London all alone is more than I can bear. The thought of your 
frail little feet struggliog through wind and rain and snow, day after day to earn the 
miserable pittance that will bare y keep body and soul together — of the hardship you 
must endure and the insult your very beauty will bring upon you. Oh, love ! the 
first fruits of your love cannot be mine, I know, but may I hope for nothing else? I 
will be contented with so little, Madge. To work for you, to Cc.re for you, to give 
you of my best, that is all I ask. And surely dear, after a time, when you had once 



38 

proved the strength of my devotion— surely a heart so tender and so trne as yonr^ 
would find some liitle love to give me in return. I mean in time. I will be patient* 
Madge ! 

(Madg" about io speak passionately, when door is flung open, admitiinglNoel, who slams 
it behind him.J 

Madge. Ah ! 

Noel. I thought as much ! 

Madge. You here ? 

Jack. I think you might have spsred ns this ! 

Noel. ( Curtly. J I want no words with ycu at all. I am here to take my cousin 
back, though perhaps she is hardly worth the ] ains. A girl who is so utterly lost to 
all self-respect as to follow a man to his rooms, at this hour, and alone — 

{Mrs. B. entering from bedroom quick'y.) 

Mrs. B. No, sir; not alone. {Pause ) Miss Heskett is here under my protec- 
tion, if you please, 

Noel. {Furiously.) My housekeeper in revolt, too! What next? This is all very 
fine. (To Mrs. B.) But you have mistaken the man yoa have to dfal with. Eeturn 
at once to your duties. You are in my service, not m Miss fleskett's, please to re- 
member. 

Mrs. B. No, sir, asking your pardon, I have always been accustomed to gentle- 
men's houses, and 1 am no 'onger in yonr service. Ind ed, sorry am I that i ever re- 
mained in it for a day ! {Catseylng stiffly and turning away iomards fire, wheie she 
bueips herselj in making tea, etc.) 

NoKL. {Abruptly to Midge.) Why have you left Field Eoyal ? 

Madge. You ask me why ? 

Noel. I do. That is j our home. It is my place as your only relative to protect 
you against evil advisers, and I desire you to return. 

Madge. And I refuse ! 

Noel. Eef use ? 

Madge. Yes; I have felt many a day that I stood in the way of your advacce- 
ment in the world you have chofcen. And there was a time when the knowledge 
cauf-ed me the bitterest grief a woman's heart can feel. But now — 

Noel. What now? 

Madge. 1 know you. The past is at an end forever. I ask nothing of you 
henceforth but to let me go my way in peace, 

Noel. Absurd ! ]f any nonsensical jealousy has prompted this step, T must say 
you have chosen a highly unbecoming manner of showing it. Why should you take 
it for granted ihat I did not intend to fulfill my promise ? A girl for whom I am still 
prepared to mak-^ sueli sacrifices ! 

Madge. {Proudly.) You shall make none for me. 

NotL. Do come ! come ! I can for!2;;ve some natural annoyance at my attentions 
in another quarter ; bat if your love is not proof against such trifl-s — 

Madge. {Sad y.) My love ! That girlish love by which you set so little store is 
cold and dead ! It perished in the same hour with Jack's — your benefactor's— friend- 
ship ! 

Jack. Mad3;e ! 

Noel. {In a jealous rage.) You are saying what you will repent some day. 

Madge. {Passionately ) Never! I wish the whole world could hear me speak ! 
All that I thought I loved in you existed but in him. {Pom'ing to Jack ) Hi was 
your heart, your enthusiasm, your only good ! I see that now. And he once gone, 
you were like one d' ad. lou were a body, ^oel Blake, witiiout a soul ! 

Jack. Wh^^t does this mean ? 

Madge. {Carried away by her feiliiigs.) It means that I have learnt the truth at 
last. Ah Jack! how could you speak to rre as you did just now? Am I such a 
stock, such a stone, such a senseless thing as I must seem to you ? You to srpplicate 
to me, when my place should be in the very dust beneath your feet, Jack — I love 
you! 

Jack. ( Wildly, as he catches her in his aim'i. ) You love me, Madge ? 

Madge. I love you ! vith the first love, warm, and true, and lasting, ol the heart 
you have cherished for so long. The early foolish blossoms, dear, were ofi'ered to 
another, it is true, but ihey are withered now, and trampled under foot. The per- 
fect bloom and sweetness of the ripened fruit is here for you — if you will take it, 
Jack? 



39 

Jack. My wife ! my wife ! ( Tlify embrace. ( 

Noel. (Sneering ) A very pretty sceue, truly! I had no idea I should be ex- 
pected to assist at your Idyls, like a poodle in the lady's Jap. But I am rightly 
served. (To Madge.) You seem to forget that it was I who took you in when you 
were left an orphan, aud gave j'ou the shelter of my roof ! 

Madge, No, no, it was nor you. I do not wish to be ungrateful but so many 
things ar.- clear now that I did not understand at one time. It was not you, but 
Jack, faithf.d, who worked for me as he worked for you. Kiud, faithful hands, how 
much do I not owe to them ! {Kisfies iliem.) 

Noel. ( With a fineerir.g Imigk- ) I sea I am in the way, and I will intrude upon 
your raptures no longer. In coming here I merelj^ wished to proxe that my suspi- 
cions were correct, before retutDiug to the happiness that aw;dl6 me. i may as well 
mention, pe:haps, that I have been accepted by Miss Blanchmayne; therefore our 
paths in life will naturalh lie verv wide apart heucefoith. 

Jack. They have sold that poor girl to you, then ; and you came here with a I e 
on yoi;r lips to— Well, be kind to her at least! To do her justice, phe is a reluc- 
tant victim to the barter. 

{Enter Major, hastily, without knocking. Madge shrinks away from Jack, who draws 
her to his side again, and holds her in his arms.) 

Madge. That horrible man ! 

Ma JOE. As I feared ! My dear Noel, what on earth are j'-ou doing here? 

Noel. {Impatienly) Wlaat are you doing here, for that matter? 

Jack. (Calmly) The very question I was about to ask- 

Majob. (To Noel.) I am the bearer of bad news, for which you have no one 
but yourself to blame "With the game in your own hands, you choose to throw up 
your cards at the most critical moment, and — 

Noel. What do you mean ? 

Major. I mean that Miss Blanchmayne has bolted. 

Noel. Bolted ? 

Majoe. Yes, with Ffolliott. They are half way to Paris by this time ! 

Noel. Damnation ! Why didnt you prevent them ? What was her mother 
about? I shall be the laugbiug-stock of the whole neighborhood ! 

Major. DeviLsh unlucky, to be sure. But you kuew the girl was tricky, and 
you ought to have stayed at home and kept your eye upon her. 

Noel. (Forcing a laugh.) Well, Miss Blanchmayne will be likely to repent her 
choice before I shall. It seems I am doomed to be unlucky in love, but I have still 
several thousand substantial consolations left. 

Majob, To V e sure ! There is as good fish in the sea, you know, and a man of 
your wf alth need not go begging long for a wife. Now, if you are quite ready, I 
have made all the airang^ments for our journey to Vienna. Why shouldn't we start 
to-night ? 

Noel. I am willing. But before I go I have one wor^l to say. l^ou have re- 
ceived me with coldness ('o Mad'je) and iusalt, but I have only one answer to make : 
I am your oniy surviving relative and it is my duty to provide for you, and enable 
you to lead a nfe ef respectability. 

Madge. Noel ! 

Noel, (Taking out pock t-hook.) By these papers you will find that I have set- 
tled on you the sum of — 

(Jack quietly touching NoeVs outstretched arm in imitation of his action in Act I, thepoc- 
ke'-hook falls on the ground.) 

Jack. "Major Whyte, I am afraid the penalty you havo to pay in your character 
of mentor to Mr. Blake is somewhat heavy. There is a trifle for your pains. (Kvk- 
ing pocket-bo',k careless y f awards him. Hoel starts bark. V(de vnlh rage. Jack addresses 
him on h>s own w^rds of Act J.) " Was there ever anything tj equal the insolenre of 
these rich people ? " 

(Major picks ur> hook and pockets it. ) 

Noel. You will be glad to apply one of these daj^s for help, and you may not 
find me so foolishly lib-ralas I have been to-day. 

Madge. Poor Noel I 

(Enter Mr. Smylie, in the greatest excitement.) 

Smtlie. Mr. Beamish? (Sees Jack.) Oh, you are here, sir, you are here ! I 
rejoice that I have found you. I have but come from Fi^ld Royal, where no one 



40 

onld give me any information as to your whereabouts. But I remembered this ad- 
dress — I remembered it, sir. 

Jack. You have business with me? 

Smylie. Of the most important nature— Tnos^ important, I assure you. Ah, you 
are here, Mr. Blake, as well ! Nothiug could be more fortuoate— nothing ! 

NoEii. If you have auything to consult me about, you can write to me at Vi- 
enna. I leave England to-night. 

Smylie, No time like the present, sir; and I am afraid my news will not keep — 
will nc-t keep, believe me. 

Noi L. Make haste, then; I have no time to lose. 

Smylie. Briefly, then, I will explain that, h .ving, with your permission, gone 
carefully through the mass of papers found ia the private cabinet of the late bir 
Richard Gaunt, it is mj' duty to report a very remarkable discovery. 

Noel, A discovery? 

Smylie. No less important than that of a second will, dated some days after 
that by which yon inherited. 

Major. The devil ! 

Jack. But what has all that to do with me ? 

Smylie. A great deal, Mr. Beamish, a great deal. Your father's name, I believe, 
was Eobert Beamish? 

Jack. {Noddiog.) Yes. 

Smylie. Aud he was an artist? 

Jack. Yes . 

Smilie. Who resided chiefly on the Continent, where you were bom ? 

Jack. Yes, in Antwerp, s^ I have heard my mother say ; but — 

Smylie. There was a little mystery attached to your mother's maiden name and 
early] if e? 

Jack. She was a lady, sir, highly born'and beautiful, and she sacrificed position, 
wealth, all to an ungovernable passion for my poor father, who bad been engaged as 
drawing master in her famil3\ "More than this she would never tell me, and I was 
still so young when my parents died. 

Smylie. Exactly, sir, exactly. Then it is left to me to inform you that your 
mother was the only and beloved daughter of the Ute Sir Kichard Gaunt ! 

Jack and Madge. Great ideavens ! 

NotL. It is a lie ! you — 

Smylie. No, i,o ; not at all, Mr. Blake ; not at all. Lawyers can speak the 
truth iit times, and you will find that I am perfectly correct in my statement. To 
proceed, some resemblance which he saw in you to your mother, Mr. Beamibh, with 
the presence in your r^ om of yonder miniature (pointing loicards m ni-l-piece. 
Mrs. Bami, icho has been listening, turns and looks at miniature iclh an exclamation of 
recognition', caused Sir Eichird to institute inqu ries, after his visit to your studio 
some months ago, with what result I have just informed you. tiis illness alone pre- 
vented his openl3^ peeking a reconciliation with his daughter's child ; or, perhaps 
(ici h a suspicious look at JIajor,) he was surrounded by interested advisers; but ttie 
fact remains that he has atoned after Lis death for the life-long anger he has nour- 
ished— and— and allow me to congratulate you. I could not wish to see the old 
manse and the old property in better hands ! 

Noel. (Eiriously.) What do you mean? 

Smylie. That the second will holds good, and Mr. Beamish is th« heir to Field 
Rojal ! 

{Exdamaiionfrom all but Noel.) 

Majoe. (Touching pocke' -book under Ms breast pocket.) The game is up. Noth- 
ing so iad^licate as to intrude in a bereaved friend's natural emotion. I think this 
will about pay my expenses to Vienna. (Exit.) 

Mes. B. (Ihdicat ng Min'alure.) That's poor Miss Sybil, 5-ure enough and to 
think that her boy is t© have the old place after all (wiping her eyes), and my poor 
master not to live to know it. 

Madge (^To Bann.) Y^ou remember Jack's mother? 

Jack. There was a time when such news would have turned my head, but to- 
day I am too happy. I have won a treasure that I vaiue more than wealth or birth — 
my wite ! 

"i^OY-L, (snei ring ) So you have got it all at last ! You can afford to indulge in 
high-flown seniments. Biit th y don't impose on me! I shall dispute this curbed 
will to the death — I give you warning ! In the meaiitiine make the most of what you 
have robbed me of. Money, Rank and Love ! Egad ! there's only one thing wanted 
to complete the Arcadian felicity of the scene — but that I fear, you cannot hope tQ 



41 

enjoy, your much lamented dog. What a pity he is not in a position to express his 
congratulations ! 

Madge, (indignantly.) For shame, sir — 

(Music.) 
Smythe. (heard outside. ) Where is he ! Let me see him ! Jack — Jack, I say I 

(Smythe rushes m with dog, which has a bandage over one leg andits forepaw hound up.) 

Here he is, here's Van — not dead, alive and kicking. Egad ! he wanted to bite 
the Major on the stairs, just as we came up, and I'm sorry he did not succeed ! 

Jack and Madge. Van, dear old Van. Oh, Smythe you good kind fellow. How 
did you find him ! Is he badly hurt ? Poor old dog ! Poor old boy ! 

Smythe. Bless you ! a little care will soon set him to rights. I picked him up in 
the shrubbery as I was leaving the place, and I had his wounds seen to in the 
village, or I should have been here sooner I 

(Madge takes dog to sofa, and covers him with her shawl. Mrs. B. comes forward to 
express her concern. Jack and Smythe shake hands) 

NoEii. I really feel unworthy the society of such model characters — Van 
included. Major ! (looking around) Oh ! he is gone ! 

Smylie. Yes, and if you have any desire to recover your pocket-book, I advise 
you to lose no time in following him to Vienna ! 

Noel, (furiously) Keep jour advice for those who can afford to pay for it ! 
( Casts a withering glance at the group by the sofa and exits with a bitter laugh.) 

Smythe. — Poor devil ! That's the last you will ever see of him ! 

Jack, (drawing a long breath. ) So let him go out of our sight — out of our lives for- 
ever. Ah, my wife ! We are not the first who have taken for sterling gold, what has 
proved, when tested, to be only base metal ! ( They go up and stand before picture.) 

Smythe. A shoe go after them, say I, here comes the boys ! (Music.) (To 

lie. ) You'll stay to supper of course ? 

(Enter Teddy and Horngold. Jack and Madge come down, greeting them warmly. 
Eorngold pulls bottles of champagne from his pockets, which he puts on table. Bo- 
hemians crowd around the lovers, pledging them. All sit at the table as the curtain 
falls Mrs. B. is pouring out tea.) 

CURTAIN. 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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